To See You Again
by Heather Logan
Summary: A timeslip lands Kenshin in modern-day Japan. After ten years with Kaoru, how will he cope with losing everything... and finding something completely unexpected? Complete.
1. Prologue: ordinary world

**To See You Again **

A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction by Heather Logan

(Disclaimer: This was written for fun, not profit. Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki.)

* * *

_One hundred and fifty years ago in Kyoto, with the coming of the Black Ships, there arose a warrior called Hitokiri Battousai. Felling men with his blood-stained blade, he closed the turbulent Bakumatsu era, and slashed open the age known as Meiji. _

_Then he vanished, and with the flow of years passed into legend -- and then into obscurity. Seeking no recognition for what he had done, he disappeared from the pages of history, and as time moved on he was forgotten. _

_The years passed. The age of Meiji came to an end, flowing into the Taisho era, and then into Showa. Wars came and passed, and through the years the country modernized, taking its place among the nations of the world. _

_In the sixteenth year of Heisei, in the middle of Tokyo, this tale begins.... _

**1. Prologue: ordinary world **

It was the quintessential symbol of the city, and by extension of Japan itself. Three hundred and thirty-three meters of latticed steel, triumph of the television age, red and white and recognized around the world. Maekawa Yuriko reached the crest of the hill and gazed upward, her right hand cupped beside her face to shield her eyes from the glare of the westering sun.

Tokyo Tower.

She must have seen it dozens of times in the four years since she'd moved to the city. From a distance it was spectacular: shining by night above the brilliant lights of Roppongi, dimmer by day but still arresting in its hugeness, its height amplified by the hill on which it stood. But as often as she'd seen it with her own two eyes, cold and solid and engineered, what had always stood out in Yuriko's memory were the stories. The myths.

The movies.

Tokyo Tower: target of monsters, meeting-point of worlds, lightning-rod of the supernatural. She'd seen it demolished time and again by giant mutant lizards. She'd seen it slashed in two, its mangled spire sliding downwards into a landscape of destruction, a symbol of the ending of the world. She'd seen it at the eye of a dimensional storm, bolts of light shooting down from the turbulent sky as aliens and gods battled above.

Those were the pictures she'd had in her head the first time she'd laid eyes on the tower, on a middle-school trip from her old home in Kamakura. She'd held tight to the strap of her schoolbag then, breathlessly scanning the skies for signs of imminent disaster. But up close, the tower had been disappointingly ordinary. Tall, yes, soaring a third of a kilometer into the sky, but somehow less impressive than when seen from a distance. Up close, Tokyo Tower was just a radio mast, standing quietly on its hilltop between the road and a small tree-filled park.

There'd been no giant lizards, no alien spacecraft, no swirling of the clouds above the tower's apex. Those things just didn't happen in real life. In spite its repeated destruction in the popular mythology, nothing untoward had ever happened to Tokyo Tower.

Nothing, that is, until today.

o-o-o

Yuriko hadn't heard about it immediately. Of course she hadn't; she didn't have time to waste checking the news sites, not at this time of year with midterm exams coming up and the first wave of student course drops and section changes starting to pour into the office. She probably wouldn't have heard about it until tomorrow morning's newspaper headlines, if at all, but Rika had caught the radio news bulletin downstairs in the registrar's office where she'd been filling in at reception, and she'd told Hitomi about it during their afternoon coffee break, and by the time the two other women had come to meet Yuriko for the walk to the station after work they could talk of nothing else.

"It was lightning," Rika was saying as the three women skipped down the side steps of the administration building and turned up the street toward the canal. The sidewalks were full already with office ladies in knee-length skirts and salarymen clutching briefcases, their ties half-loosened in the heat.

"Lightning?" Hitomi shot her friend a skeptical glance from behind her wire-framed lenses. She had taken off her pastel suit jacket and was fanning herself vigorously with a folding paper fan.

"Yeah, lightning," Rika replied, eyebrows arched enthusiastically. "They had one of the witnesses on the radio. He said it was lightning for sure. Like, when it's really close and you hear the crack at the same time that you see the flash?"

"Out of this sky?" Hitomi gestured upward with her fan, raising her eyes pointedly towards the hazy blueness up beyond the back of the student union. "That doesn't seem very likely." She looked back over at Rika. "And if lightning did that much damage, then how come Tokyo Tower doesn't get hit every time a thunderstorm comes through?"

"There's a lightning rod on top," Yuriko commented quietly, hitching her shoulder-bag higher up on her shoulder and flipping a limp strand of auburn hair back behind her ear. She knew these things. She'd read the brochure, back in middle school. "It's grounded," she added. "You know. Discharges the air, protects the structure." She wiggled her fingers vaguely to demonstrate the air-discharging action of pointed metal.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense." Rika frowned, then turned back to Hitomi. "But what else could it have been?"

"A bomb," Hitomi said grimly, setting her square jaw.

It was Rika's turn to purse her lips skeptically, as she paused on the curb to glance briefly right and left before continuing across the street and onto the gently-arched bridge that spanned the canal. Yuriko trailed after her friends, frowning.

"The windows were all blown out, right?" Hitomi continued, a little defensively, raising her voice above the whoosh of the passing traffic. "We're lucky no one was killed. All those tourists there, and a whole class of schoolkids.... My god, it could've been so much worse. It could've been like Madrid. We've got elections coming up too, you know. We should be taking this as a warning."

"Oh, god," Rika moaned, rolling her eyes. "Don't get started about Iraq again."

"Well, why are we there?" Hitomi snapped back. "What business do we have being there at all? The constitution--"

Yuriko sighed silently. This argument had been raging in the office for months, ever since Japanese forces had joined the occupation back in January, and she had tried to keep out of it so far. She had mixed feelings about the the whole thing: of course it was good that the old dictatorship had been toppled -- no one deserved to live under oppression like that -- but now, a year later, that distant country was dangerously close to sliding into civil war. If that happened, it would be the people who suffered. In the end, it was always the people who suffered.

This time, though, she wanted information, and she wasn't getting it. She quickened her pace to catch up with the other two women and slipped between them.

"Hitomi, Rika," she cut in. "Come on; I haven't even seen the news yet. What do they know actually happened? Was it an explosion, or what? Was anybody hurt?" Were there any monster sightings, she didn't say.

Hitomi sighed, pushing a hand through her short bobbed hair. "Yeah," she said, "they think it was some kind of explosion."

"--Or lightning," Rika added, holding up a finger.

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Fine, 'or lightning.'" She turned back toward Yuriko. "They lost all the windows on one side, but I don't think the structure itself was damaged. A few people got hurt, some of them pretty badly. Nobody was killed, but I heard they took fifteen to the hospital, some of them still unidentified. No chemical burns or anything like that, though; they don't think there was poison gas."

"For god's sake, Hitomi, it wasn't terrorists!" Rika raised her arms as if imploring the heavens. "It was lightning or a gas leak. If you assume everything is terrorists, the terrorists don't even have to do anything! They just sit back and win by default!"

"You don't know that--"

Yuriko let herself fall a couple of steps behind the other two as the old argument flared up again. They had reached the subway station, stepping down the worn concrete stairs and into the fluorescent-lit subterranean coolness. She touched her pass to the RF reader and the gate chunked open.

Tokyo Tower, she thought as she followed her friends through the bustling station concourse. A gas explosion... or something else? A bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky? People injured, some of them still unidentified. A tingle ran down Yuriko's spine, and she knew then that she had to see it for herself.

Rika and Hitomi were heading for the up-line platform, toward Ikebukuro. Normally she'd walk there with them and onward, past the Marunouchi line and on through the tunnel and up the steps to the smaller platform for the Chiyoda line. But not today.

"Hey, Rika, Hitomi," Yuriko called after them. "I've got to run some errands tonight." She pointed over her shoulder down the connecting hallway to the down-line platform opposite. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, see you, Yuriko," Rika called back. Hitomi turned as well to smile over her shoulder and wave, and then they were both gone, swept around the corner and down the wide corridor toward the platform with the rest of the crowd, the sounds of their continuing argument quickly lost under the muted babble of the Monday evening commuters.

The tap-tap of Yuriko's footsteps quickened just a little as she walked away. Her palms were sweating slightly, dampening the maroon cotton strap of her shoulder-bag where she clutched it. Excitement? Perhaps. Or maybe it was just the heat of a muggy day in the middle of May.

o-o-o

Now that she was here, though, there was really not that much to see. The base of the tower had been cordoned off with yellow plastic tape and a few public-works signboards scattered about. 'Caution -- construction,' the signboards read, and 'Apologies for the inconvenience.'

The windows had indeed been blown out all along the east side of the tower, the side facing the park; Yuriko could see them now as she continued warily along the road. They'd been boarded up with plywood already, all three floors of the nondescript concrete building that formed the center of the tower's base.

There'd been an aquarium in there when she'd come here as a teenager -- a small boring aquarium and a tacky wax museum. And a shop selling postcards and cast-aluminum replicas of the tower.

Yuriko stopped and squinted upwards, past the setting sun, blocking the glare with her palm. The windows up on the main observatory level seemed to be untouched. Too far from whatever had done this damage, apparently.

She frowned, considering, surveying the wider scene. One of the benches near the tower entrance was festooned with yellow tape; from where she was standing she could just make out the pale flash of splintered wood from fresh breaks in a few of its green-painted slats. Most of the freestanding green-and-white fabric awning that had covered the approach to the entrance had been taken down too, its support poles gathered up and leaned neatly against the wall beside the ticket window. But other than that...

A couple of cars hummed by on the road behind her, the second one slowing to rubberneck at the damage. No different than what she was doing, really. And no reason they shouldn't, now that the road was open again -- climbing the hill, she'd seen the orange wooden traffic barricades stacked up against the outer wall of a small temple on the other side of the street. There was no reason now to keep people away from this place. Even the yellow plastic tape only said 'Caution,' not 'Police line -- do not cross.'

Yuriko scanned the concrete again, beneath the tower's splayed legs. No matter how she looked at it, there was nothing here to be seen. No glassy crater, no whorls of psychedelic color, no sorcerer's chalked mandala. Even the broken glass had been carefully swept up. Tokyo Tower was still no more than a radio mast and a tourist trap, like it always had been.

She sighed and let her arm flop to her side. The truth was, she'd been excited coming here, her pulse running fast from more than just the trek up the hill. She'd had that anticipatory feeling that this was it, this was finally _it_: the first crack in her mundane reality, her first chance to step through into... into something else. Into something _beyond_.

No. It was disgraceful being excited about this; there were people in the hospital, for heaven's sake. And what had she expected, anyway? Aliens? Godzilla? Her fairytale prince astride a horse, here on the concrete beneath Tokyo's tallest radio mast? It was childish, plain and simple. This was the real world. Magic didn't happen in the real world.

Enough of this, she thought. She'd be thirty-two in a month. It was time to stop believing in magic.

Maekawa Yuriko shook her head and started back down the road, toward the setting sun and Kamiya-chou station.

* * *

_Author's notes: Heisei 16 is the year 2004. For names I use the Japanese convention of family name first, given name second._


	2. Out of place

**2. Out of place **

The ceiling was white.

Kenshin blinked at it, once, twice, as his vision came slowly into focus.

The ceiling was white, and unfamiliar, and he was lying on his back on a strange bed with overstarched linens and no memory of how he'd gotten here.

He sat up abruptly and then crumpled forward, clutching at the unexpected stab of pain in his side. He gasped a couple of quick breaths, ignoring the cascade of twinges from the rest of his body, and straightened up again, bracing his right hand on the sheets for support.

It wasn't just the ceiling; everything here was white: the walls, the bedding, the thin curtain to his left hanging from a flimsy metal rail. The air smelled of antiseptic.

Kenshin narrowed his eyes. This was not where he was supposed to be.

He'd been downtown at the market, had just finished picking up a few groceries for dinner. Something odd had caught his attention down a narrow side street and he'd turned away from the main road to investigate. It hadn't seemed dangerous, just exceedingly strange: a soft pearlescent light hanging in the air in the middle of the alley, a glow like daylight seen through a paper screen, about a foot and a half across and just a bit above his eye level. He'd stepped towards it cautiously, watching for any change, any sign of danger. The light had been pulsing slightly, seeming to rotate, hanging steady in the air like a will-o'-the-wisp. After a minute or so with no change he'd set down the tofu bucket and reached out with one hand to see if he could touch it.

That had been a mistake. The light had exploded around him into brilliant colors, dazzling his eyes, filling his ears with a sound like howling wind. There'd been an intense cold, a sudden acceleration, a jarring impact against something that had yielded like sailcloth, tearing and clattering down around him and for a moment he'd been staring up at a narrow red and white latticework tower pointing impossibly high into the burning sky. Then he'd hit the ground, and blacked out.

A hospital, then. Kenshin relaxed a little, making a quick inventory of his injuries. From the way it hurt when he breathed, his rib was probably cracked. Annoying, but not serious, except that Kaoru would be furious if she found out. Aside from that, there were just a few cuts and scrapes, bandaged up already, and some minor burns on the back of his right hand. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling sheepish for having passed out with so little cause.

He'd been stripped naked and dressed in a scratchy and revealing garment, and there was a thin tubing taped onto his left hand tethering him to a rack beside the bed. Bizarre. He peeled off the tape and pulled the needle out of the back of his hand, rubbing absently at the ache as he got to his feet.

The floor was cold. Kenshin found his clothes in a small cupboard by the door and dressed quickly, then took a moment to fold the skimpy garment he'd been wearing and lay it neatly on the bed. There was no need to be impolite; after all, whoever had brought him here had been kind enough to bandage his cuts. He settled his sakabatou through the waistband of his hakama and picked up his zori from the floor of the cupboard. Dressed normally again, he felt much better.

Kenshin eased open the door and looked cautiously out into the hall. There were people around -- like almost everything else in this place, their clothes were white as well -- but they seemed busy, striding hurriedly up and down the hallway. Kenshin frowned. He would stand out dressed as he was in magenta, and he had no desire to attract the attention of these people. This was not where he was supposed to be, and his instincts were warning him toward caution. Even if they meant him no harm -- they had treated his injuries, after all, and made no attempt to lock him in -- there was still no need to interrupt their work.

He plastered a don't-mind-me smile on his face and padded out in his socks to make his escape, his zori held by their straps in one hand.

o-o-o

The side door had opened onto a quiet paved street, bordered by the massive gray slab of the hospital building on Kenshin's left and a high wooden fence on the right. The air was hot and thick with humidity, like walking into a steam bath after the coolness indoors. From the angle of the sun, it was already four or five in the afternoon.

He was late. Kaoru would be worried. Kenshin quickened his pace. He'd best get out of this side-street, get his bearings, and get home as quickly as he could. He rounded the corner of the lane and stopped as if he'd walked into a wall.

He'd come out onto a major boulevard, the sidewalks jammed with people and the street full of... of carriages of some sort. Great slabs of glass and metal soared from the street to the sky, and the noise was appalling.

This was not Tokyo.

He had pressed himself instinctively up against the wall of the building on the corner, getting out of the stream of people as he tried to process what he was seeing, tried to find any familiar element among the chaos.

The strangely-dressed crowds filling the sidewalks looked Japanese, at least, and -- yes -- he could pick out snatches of conversation now, above the noise of the traffic. Kanto accents. That much was familiar.

Think this through rationally, Kenshin told himself. He couldn't be too far from home. It had been just about mid-day when he'd encountered the glowing thing hanging in the air near the market. He glanced again at the sun, just visible through a gap in the soaring skyline. Not more than four or five hours ago, certainly. And it had to be the same day -- his cuts and scratches were still fresh and raw, not yet beginning to heal, and the bruises hadn't even had time to darken.

A few hours. He couldn't be too far from home.

Then where was he?

Kenshin surveyed his surroundings again, analytic this time rather than bewildered. Since the initial shock had worn off, it no longer seemed quite so alien.

The great slabs of glass and metal were buildings, clearly, built in some new architectural style that he hadn't encountered before. The fashions in clothing had changed, running toward narrow sleeves and trousers, smooth fabrics in coordinated dark monochromes, with those Western-style neckties that Kenshin had always found unaccountably hilarious, but under the clothes the people were still the same. There was a new fashion in city transportation as well, those noisy carriages that his mind had hiccuped over at first glance, and electrification had expanded greatly. Wires laced the sky overhead, strung between tall gray poles all up and down the street and stretching across in wide arcs to the buildings on either side.

Kenshin was used to seeing this kind of change. Ever since the revolution new technologies had been appearing almost daily, both imported from overseas and developed domestically in the explosion of innovation that had come with the start of the Meiji era. Every year, things had looked a little different: new styles of architecture, of clothing, of transportation. Like the steam trains. He remembered the first time he'd ridden on one of those contraptions, a day-trip to Yokohama with Kaoru and Sanosuke and Yahiko. Ten years ago, now. Sano had spent the entire ride holding his knees and shivering with fear, convinced that it was all an illusion, some trick of a fox or tanuki, and that afterwards they would all wake up in a sewer pit somewhere. Tough, cocky Sano, reduced to abject terror by a train ride to Yokohama.

Kenshin suppressed a smile. The train ride had been bad enough for Sano, but the photographer that Kaoru had insisted they visit had been the last straw. After that, Sano had gotten himself smashed on cheap sake and walked the eighteen miles back home to Tokyo.

_Yokohama..._

That's what those vehicles were, Kenshin realized: self-powered train cars, running on the street instead of on tracks. Not such a big leap of the imagination. He nodded to himself, slotting this new development into his picture of the world. Kaoru would be interested in this. She followed the technologies. Kenshin himself, though, had never paid them much attention. People stayed the same; that was what mattered.

_This must be Yokohama._

The port city had always changed fast, even before the start of Meiji. Ever since the Black Ships had forced the opening of its harbor to the outside world, the influence of foreign contact had been impossible to avoid. Fashions always seemed to appear there a few years before they made their way to Tokyo, and the buildings had always been new-looking and strange, even outside the foreigners' district. Yokohama...

The memory of the red and white tower floated through Kenshin's mind, leaving uneasiness in its wake. Something was still wrong.

Why was he here? The glowing in the air and the subsequent explosion -- if that was indeed what it had been -- those were mysterious, but this was downright suspicious. Who had brought him to Yokohama, and why?

Well. Suspicious or not, he was here, and there was no sign of danger, at least not at the moment. At least not directed toward him. He was suddenly worried. Kaoru and Kenji were at home. He needed to be there. _Now._

Yokohama, then. Kenshin stepped away from the wall, his fingers trailing lightly on the rough gray stone. He couldn't feel the influence of the sea in the hot and humid air; he must be a fair way inland from the harbor. No matter. He knew Tokyo was north and a little bit east, and he'd walked that road before. If he hurried, he could make it home in a little more than four hours.

Kenshin oriented himself by the sun and set off briskly up the boulevard, merging effortlessly into the stream of pedestrians. It would be fully dark by the time he got home. He felt a pang of guilt. Even if this strange situation were totally innocent, Kaoru would be worried about him.

Not only worried. She'd be angry, as well. He'd lost the tofu bucket.

o-o-o

Something was wrong. Badly wrong. Kenshin had been walking for half an hour now, as the sun sank almost imperceptibly over his left shoulder and the road and the steady progression of buildings on either side went on unchanged. He should be in the countryside by now. Shouldn't he? Yokohama couldn't have expanded this much in so few years. Kenshin glanced uneasily around himself and pushed a hand through his hair. There was an odd smell in the hot air, too, out of place but vaguely familiar. He slowed and took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of his cracked rib, trying to decode what his instincts were telling him. Trying to still the nervousness in his stomach.

He wasn't being followed. He'd felt nothing, no flares of hostile ki, not even a passing interest since he'd left the hospital building. No; it was something else.

The stream of cars on the road beside him hadn't abated. If anything, the traffic was becoming denser as the afternoon wore on. Remarkable that there could be so many of them. If they'd been running on charcoal like the last train he'd ridden, the air would be unbreathable with smoke. Something else, then. Kenshin sniffed the air again. It reminded him of...

_-- of a hidden arena high up the flank of Mount Hiei, torches flaring under the blazing Kyoto sun --_

He swallowed and turned his eyes away from the street. Yes, that was it. Petroleum. This was new. And there was something else that was bothering him. His surroundings were starting to look... _familiar_. The road he'd been following ended just ahead in a wide, chaotic intersection with two other streets. On the opposite side of the sea of traffic was a footpath, too narrow for the cars, used instead by pedestrians and runners. Beyond the path was a swath of grass, pleasantly scattered with trees. And beyond the grass was an expanse of still water, like a long narrow lake speckled with water-lilies, its far side overhung by a screen of larger trees.

Kenshin faltered, coming to a halt a few yards short of the corner, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Pedestrians brushed past, ignoring him, gathering on the street corner to flow across with the change of the lights, their motion the slow pulse-beat of the city.

He knew what was beyond those trees. He knew because he had seen this before, this stretch of still water, this wall of green.

Beyond those trees was Edo Castle.

This was not Yokohama. This was Tokyo.

o-o-o

Kenshin lay in the soft grass between the footpath and the water, staring unseeing at the sky, letting the coolness of the soil soak through the back of his kimono.

He'd had to know for sure. He'd had to ask someone. The man had confirmed that, yes, this was Tokyo, and had asked him if he was lost. He'd been tempted to say yes.

Almost on a whim, he'd asked the date as well. The seventeenth of May, but he'd known that already. He'd known that this morning, when he'd left the Kamiya dojo to walk to the market for fish and tofu.

_Every year, things had looked a little different..._

Holding down a rising dread, he'd asked the year. The man had looked at him strangely and said two thousand and four, which told Kenshin exactly nothing. He'd never paid attention to the Western-style dating scheme. The man must have read Kenshin's blank look correctly, though, since he'd brightened and given him the proper date.

Heisei sixteen.

Heisei. Not Meiji. Sixteen years into a new era, an era whose name he'd never heard before.

It was impossible. It had to be the same day. His cuts and scratches were still fresh and raw, not yet beginning to heal, and the bruises hadn't even had time to darken.

It had to be the same day.

Kenshin lay in the grass, staring unseeing at the sky, as the sun went down and twilight fell upon Tokyo.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_sakabatou - reverse-bladed sword _

_hakama - wide pleated trousers _

_zori - thong sandals, structurally equivalent to flip-flops _

_Kanto - the eastern part of the largest island of Japan. The western part is called Kansai. _

_tanuki - A member of the canid family (along with dogs, wolves, and foxes). The tanuki appears in Japanese mythology as a shapeshifting trickster, like the fox; but while foxes are typically portrayed as sly, manipulative and cunning, tanuki are more jolly, mischievous and often gullible. Tanuki statues, with their conical straw hats, sake bottles and big round bellies, are a common sight outside restaurants as a good-luck charm for bringing prosperity. _

_kimono - it turns out that the top Kenshin wears is not a "gi" but a 3/4 length kimono _


	3. Changes

**3. Changes **

He couldn't find the Kamiya dojo. He couldn't even find the right street.

Kenshin leaned against the stuccoed wall, eyes closed, letting the morning sunshine warm his body as he tried to calm down. He'd been crisscrossing the city center all night, trying to find his way home.

The whole pattern of streets was different. How could that be? How could the streets be changed? It was impossible. To change the streets, you'd have to tear down all the buildings. And over the entire center of Tokyo....

Kenshin unclenched his hands with an effort and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the cool roughness of the stucco behind his shoulders, the twittering of the birds in the trees above him, the warm redness of the sunlight shining through his eyelids. Waiting for the trembling to stop.

Panicking wasn't going to help. What he needed was more information. If he could find out what had happened to Tokyo, he might stand a better chance of getting home. And he had a good idea where to start.

Kenshin opened his eyes and pushed himself up off the wall, then set off back up the quiet little lane, between cinderblock walls and painted ironwork gates and tidy little plants in their earthenware pots at the backs of the houses. His pace was brisk and purposeful, his expression carefully neutral. He was trying not to think about Heisei sixteen.

o-o-o

"Here's a good one; this should help you get started, at least." The librarian plucked down a glossy new-looking volume from among the rows and rows of books and laid it in Kenshin's hands. The words on its spine had read 'Japan: The History of a Nation.'

"Thank you," he said absently, distracted by the colored photograph on the book's cover. It was a distant shot of a city skyline, taken on a sunny day with the iconic silhouette of Mount Fuji in the background, but what had caught his eye was the small red-and-white tower sticking up above the rest of the buildings in the left foreground of the image. It was the same tower, the tower he'd seen in that confused tumbling moment after... after whatever it was had happened. Kenshin blinked, suddenly realizing what had been bothering him about that tower. Yesterday afternoon, when he'd first seen the transformed city and still thought it was Yokohama, he'd assumed he'd been transported here while unconscious. But that was wrong. He'd seen the tower _before_ he'd blacked out. Whatever had happened to Tokyo had happened in that strange explosion, had happened in a handful of seconds. A new era, and sixteen-plus years...

The librarian had turned away, starting back down the aisle between the shelves.

"Just a minute, please," Kenshin called softly after her. "This year..."

"Yes?" She turned back toward him, eyebrows raised in polite attentiveness behind her spectacles.

"This year is Heisei sixteen, is it not?" He needed the confirmation.

"Yes, that's right." She tilted her head to one side, a polite half-smile on her face, waiting for him to continue.

Kenshin nodded, flicking his eyes fractionally away from her curious gaze for the moment that it took him to hide his anxiety. She must think him a half-wit, not even knowing which year it was. He looked back at her and gave her a cheery smile. "Thank you very much," he said again.

"Not at all." She nodded back politely. "If you need any more help, please just come to the reference desk." Then she turned away again, and walked back into the stacks.

Kenshin set his sword on the floor and sat down cross-legged beside it, laying the book on his lap and flipping open the front cover. What he needed first was a time-line, a table of the eras. This should be standard stuff, at least judging by the meager few history books that he'd taken the time to look at in his life. It should be near the beginning, or inside the back cover. He flipped over a few pages, the glossy paper smooth under his fingers.

_Ah._ As expected, there it was, and there was even a translation to the Western-style dating scheme. Kenshin ran a finger down the table of names and numbers. So -- if the first year of Meiji was one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, and his own Meiji twenty-one was one thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight... He did the math on his fingers. Then he did it again, unable to believe his first result.

One hundred and sixteen years. Oh, gods.

o-o-o

Kenshin drifted numbly down the street, the crowds of pedestrians that brushed past him on either side barely registering in his consciousness. The sun was sinking once more, behind the buildings and broken clouds to the west.

He had almost left the library after seeing the dates, after counting the years between the twenty-first of Meiji and two thousand and four. Almost. Something had kept him there. It hadn't quite been curiosity; no, he'd just needed to know. Needed to know what had happened to Tokyo in those hundred and sixteen years, those years that had somehow flicked by in that searing flash of light, leaving him alone untouched. And so he'd read, from the Meiji he knew all the way to the end of the book.

It had started to go wrong almost from the beginning. Fifty years of external wars, starting with Russia and ending with... with the entire world, as far as he could make out. He had read it all, his dread increasing with each turn of a page. It was in the past now, he knew that, but evidently some of those horrors were still fresh enough to have been carefully glossed over in the text, the prose going disturbingly vague and euphemistic in unexpected places.

Kenshin had seen a war. He knew what kind of images went behind those euphemisms. He'd managed to stick it out until 1938 and Nanjing before he'd had to go outside and sit beneath the trees for a few minutes, breathing just a bit too deeply in the clean bright air. He hadn't actually thrown up into the bushes, but it had been a close thing.

The librarian had eyed him with concern when he'd come back in. He'd given her an opaque smile and gone back to the book. There were a lot of pages dedicated to those next seven years. And then... things had changed. Japan had survived by some miracle, had survived it all and even thrived. The people in the streets around him were happy, prosperous and unafraid -- living in a country at peace with itself and with the world. It was all he had hoped for, more than he'd hoped for, all those years ago when he'd left his adopted home on Hiko's mountain to offer his sword and his soul to the revolution.

People were happy now, in this generation. But it had cost so much. So much suffering, more lives than Kenshin could even wrap his mind around. He knew now how the pattern of streets had come to be different. Tokyo had burned. Twice. Once in 1923, because of the earthquake. And once in 1945. There had been photographs.

And he hadn't been there. That was the worst of it, that he hadn't been there to protect any of them. Whether or not he could have made a difference, one reverse-bladed sword against all that history, he should have been there.

He'd left the library at closing time in a trance, his head full of black-and-white images of destruction and the sure knowledge that there was no one left in the world that he had ever known.

One hundred and sixteen years. Kaoru was gone. What had it been like for her when he'd walked into the city for groceries one sunny day in the middle of May and never returned, leaving her with an eight-year-old Kenji to raise by herself? Had she thought he'd gone wandering again, leaving home without a word, carrying nothing but his sakabatou and a tofu bucket? Had she waited for him to return, all the long years of the rest of her life?

"Kaoru..." he whispered. Calling her name would do no good, not now. Too many years had passed, passed somehow without touching him, and there was nothing he could do. "I'm so sorry..." His throat seized up on the last word and he closed his eyes, sending unexpected tears skimming down his cheeks. There was nothing he could do.

The crowds of Tokyo walked on past him, happy and unafraid as the sun went down once more.

o-o-o

It was starting to feel like a dream. The gods knew, Kenshin wanted it to be one. But it was too long, too consistent to be anything but the waking world, as strange as it had become.

Besides, Kenshin thought, if this were a dream, it wouldn't have occurred to him to think that it might be a dream. He frowned, unsure of the coherency of that last thought, and then shook his head. In any case, his cracked rib was aching mercilessly, and that never happened in his dreams.

He'd spent the night silently wandering the city. There had been no point in trying to sleep, not with the shops and office blocks and towering apartment buildings turning to firebombed rubble every time he closed his eyes. And so he'd walked, waiting for exhaustion to smother his imagination.

The morning had found him in Asakusa, near the river, and he'd realized with a start that he knew his way around. It wasn't that the streets here were the same as the ones he'd known before -- this area had been one of those most thoroughly leveled in the disasters he'd read about yesterday -- but two nights of crisscrossing the city had combined with his natural sense of direction to give him a fairly complete map of the area. And now, a few hours past dawn as the streets were filling once again with people, Kenshin realized that there were a few that actually were the same.

He'd come out of a narrow alley clogged with parked cars and cookware shops and stopped in his tracks in shocked recognition. He was in Nakamise-dori. The little street hadn't changed at all, still jam-packed with people and lined with its familiar profusion of brightly-decorated stalls selling their snacks and toys and souvenirs. Looking up the line of red paper lanterns that hung from the eaves of every stall all the way up the street, it was almost as if a century had dropped away and he was standing again in the twenty-first year of Meiji.

Kenshin stretched up on his tiptoes to peer between the heads of the morning crowds up towards Sensouji Temple, ignoring the pangs of protestation from his tired calves. The inner gate was still there, the massive square shape of its gray-tiled roof dominating the end of the street, exactly as it had been in his own era save for the untidy skein of wires draped in front of it and the line of electric light-globes on their red-and-green brackets that ran up the street above the roofs of the stalls.

The familiar sight came as a relief. Kenshin gazed out at it for a hesitant moment, remembering the shade under the big cypresses in the temple's tidy courtyard, remembering the air of peacefulness in spite of the ubiquitous throngs of pilgrims and tourists. If Nakamise-dori and the gate were still here, then the temple might still be there as well.

It was worth the risk of disappointment. Kenshin started up the street, slipping easily through the crowds. He needed some peace and quiet, needed some place where he could at least sit down for a little while. The weather had cooled since yesterday and turned cloudy, a light breeze stirring his hair pleasantly, but his head hurt and he felt disoriented to the point of dizziness. He knew it was mostly just exhaustion. He hadn't slept since the hospital, the day before yesterday. He still wasn't sure if he'd be able to.

Up close, the gate was almost uncannily familiar, the colossal red paper lantern hanging weightless and dusty above his head, the vermillion columns as glossy as if they'd been painted yesterday, the netting in the eaves not quite succeeding in keeping out the pigeons. And the large courtyard at the heart of the temple complex, sundrenched and thronged, was the same as it had ever been.

It surprised him, the extent of his relief as he passed under the gate into familiar surroundings. A few details had changed -- the position of the outbuilding selling fortunes, the design of the benches under the trees to the left of the gate, the shape of the roof over the water trough. For all he knew, the buildings could have been torn down and rebuilt from their foundations half a dozen times, but it made little difference. The place was the same.

Kenshin closed his eyes briefly and sighed, taking in the familiar sounds: the metallic rattle of the bell at the front of the shrine and the clap-clap of people praying, the shrieks and giggles of children horsing around on the steps and the songs of the birds in the trees, the soft chatter of the morning picnickers on the benches in the shade beside him. Kenshin opened his eyes again, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. Then he turned, walking purposefully past the big pagoda toward the trees on the outskirts of the temple grounds.

Here it was quieter, almost deserted, the many small shrines largely ignored among the trees. Kenshin picked one at random and lowered himself down onto the gravel beside it, resting his back against a stone fence-post, leaving one knee propped up in front of him. It felt unbelievably good to be off his feet; for a little while he just savored the sensation of not walking, of not standing on concrete. He had been too keyed up, had had too much to think about since leaving the library the previous evening to even have considered doing this until now.

And it really was quite peaceful here. The stone figure of Kannon smiled down benevolently from its small plinth, over the incense burner and the little vase of fresh flowers set carefully on the ledge before it. The birdsong and the distant murmur of the crowds were soothing, the familiar sounds of Tokyo. Kenshin leaned his sword against one shoulder and draped an arm across his knee. Yes, he thought as his eyes drifted closed, he might be able to sleep here.

o-o-o

Kenshin woke to a shriek of laughter. Late morning, still overcast, and there was a small child in a floppy yellow hat running straight towards him.

"Oro-" He had a moment to goggle in shock before the little girl hurled herself on top of him, knocking him sideways onto the gravel path.

"Hehe he," the girl giggled. She'd had a soft landing.

Not so for Kenshin. He'd hit the back of his head on the ground, sending the world tilting and spinning unpleasantly around him, and now the child was kneeling on top of him in a way that made his cracked rib hurt abominably.

"Red," the girl declared, pointing at Kenshin's hair.

It occurred to him that he could have dodged her assault. But if he'd done that, she might have tripped and fallen.

"Hello," he said cheerily, levering himself up onto one elbow. The ground had stopped moving beneath him, but the girl was still kneeling on his stomach. She was maybe four. He rubbed the back of his head where he'd whacked it, brushing the gravel out of his hair.

"Hello," the girl replied. Her face was round under the brim of her hat, her fringe of hair straight and black, her eyes big and brown and bright. "Your hair is all red. Why?" She edged forward to touch Kenshin's bangs, squeezing the air out of his lungs and threatening to start the world spinning again.

Kenshin gave the child a strained smile and lifted her off his chest, then sat up and crossed his legs in front of him. "I don't know why," he replied, brushing the dust off his sleeves. "It's always been red, that it has. Since I was little, like you."

"Oh." The girl tilted her head to one side, absorbing this information with wide-eyed seriousness. "Okay," she added, and got to her feet. "You were taking a nap." She pointed at him with a small finger.

Kenshin nodded.

"You shouldn't take a nap now. Naptime's after lunch."

"Ah. My apologies." Kenshin smiled sheepishly. "I was sleepy, that I was."

The girl considered this and then nodded, as if she'd decided that Kenshin's explanation was sufficient. "Okay," she said again. "What's your name?"

"Kenshin, that it is," he told her. The breeze sighed in the trees, carrying moisture and the smell of rain. Kenshin glanced up at the sky from his seat on the ground. The clouds looked thicker than before, and the birdsong had stopped. "It looks like it's going to rain soon," he added. "You should go back to your mother and father, that you should."

"Okay," said the girl. "Come with me?" She reached down and grasped Kenshin's hand in both of hers. He raised his eyebrows and scrambled to his feet.

"Mommy and daddy are selling rice crackers," the girl continued, leading Kenshin by the hand back towards the central temple complex. "Here; it's for you." She stopped to undertake the complicated task of pulling a rice cracker out of the pocket in the front of her dress, and offered it up to Kenshin. He raised his eyebrows, surprised, then accepted it with solemn thanks. It was chipped and battered and slightly linty.

They walked on, along the gravel path beneath the trees.

"Ken-nii," the girl continued, after a moment. "Are your mommy and daddy selling things here too?"

"Nope," Kenshin replied lightly. "I don't have a mother and father, that I don't." He took an absent-minded bite of the rice cracker.

The girl looked up at him skeptically from under the brim of her yellow hat. "But everybody has a mommy and daddy," she said. "How did you get born without a mommy and daddy?"

Kenshin chuckled. This child was well-informed. "Ah, of course," he replied. "I had a mother and father once, that I did." He finished off the rice cracker. It was surprisingly tasty, even garnished with pocket lint.

"Do you have a big brother or a little brother or a big sister or a little sister?" she asked.

"Nope," Kenshin replied again. "I don't have any brothers or sisters. You know a lot of words, that you do."

"Then you don't have a family." The girl had turned to look up at him with big eyes, swinging his hand for emphasis and walking sideways, crablike, onward along the path.

Kenshin glanced away, at the trees, at the ornate scarlet brackets that filled the eaves of the stacked pagoda up ahead to their right. His zori crunched in the gravel.

For a long time it had been true, what this child was saying. For a long time he had thought it was the only way his life could ever be.

Kaoru had changed that. Kenji had changed it even further. The joy, the amazement, were still as fresh as yesterday.

"No, I do have a--"

As fresh as a hundred and sixteen years ago.

"--had a family," he amended. A moisture-laden gust of wind flattened the back of his kimono and fluttered his hair against his cheek.

They were gone now, of course. Too much time had passed.

_Kaoru..._

The girl had noticed the change in his voice. She was looking at him again, looking confused and somehow sad. "What do you mean?" she asked. Kenshin avoided her eyes.

_...and Kenji._ Their son would have grown up, grown old, maybe had a family of his own.

"Ken-nii?"

_Had a family of his own..._

Kenshin had stopped, eyes wide with a sudden realization. If Kenji had had a family of his own.... How many generations in a hundred and sixteen years? Four? Five?

"Ken-nii?" The girl tugged at his hand.

Kenshin turned to her breathlessly. "Little one, I just remembered. I have an errand to run, that I do."

"What errand?" the girl asked.

Kenshin smiled down at her. His eyes were shining.

"I have to find my family."

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_-dori - street _

_nii - big brother _

_The tofu bucket was borrowed from Nekotsuki (read "Tanabata Jasmine"), and will be returned. _


	4. One step forward

**4. One step forward **

"Hello, Maekawa residence."

"Hi, mom? It's Yuriko."

"Oh, hi, Yuriko darling!" The voice on the other end of the line was tinny, but the smile in it was clear. "How is everything?"

"I'm fine, mom. Not much is new." Yuriko glanced up at the sky, tilting her elbow to keep the cellphone against her ear, and quickened her pace back across the quad toward the administration building. She'd been over to the cafeteria with Rika and Hitomi for lunch, had waved the two other women on ahead so she could make this phone call, but the clouds were darkening and it looked as if the rain could start at any moment. Even with the collapsible umbrella in her shoulder-bag, it was better to get inside. "How're things?" she continued into the handset. "How're you and dad?"

"Oh, fine, fine." There was a pause, and a distant 'it's Yuriko.' Then her mother's voice resumed. "So, dear, have you met any nice young men lately?"

It was the standard question, and the answer hadn't changed since the last time her mother had asked it a mere four days ago. Yuriko had only been off the train for fifteen minutes, back home in Kamakura for one of her regular weekend visits. She rolled her eyes. "No, mom, nobody new since the weekend." She paused for a moment, the tip of her tongue between her teeth. "Well..." she added, "there's a new lecturer in economics."

"Oh, that's great, sweetheart! Is he nice?" Yuriko could hear the delight in her mother's voice. 'Lecturer in economics,' came the muffled echo as she relayed the news.

"I don't know," Yuriko replied. "He doesn't know I exist."

"Aww."

"Anyway, mom, I can come down again the weekend after next, okay?"

"All right, dear, that would be wonderful," her mother replied, followed by a distant 'weekend after next.' "You know, dear," her mother continued, "I could call the matchmaker for you, set something up. I saw her at the shops yesterday and she asked me how you were. She said she'd had some queries from some nice young local men, professionals and all. It really wouldn't hurt to take a look. You'll be thirty-two in a month, you know."

The other standard question. Yuriko had stopped in front of the wide concrete steps of the administration building, ready to roll her eyes again. But she didn't. Instead she said, "...okay."

There was a long, shocked pause.

"Mom?"

"Ye- yes? Yuriko darling?"

"I said okay."

"...All right then, dear. I'll give her a call, ask her to send us some introduction letters."

"Mm."

There was another pause. Then her mother said, "Yuriko?"

"Yeah?"

"There's no commitment, you know."

"I know, mom."

"All right then. See you the weekend after next. Bye, dear."

"Bye, mom."

Yuriko thumbed the 'end call' button and stood, looking at the phone in her hand. She had surprised herself. She had said okay. She flipped the phone closed and squinted up into the gray sky, counting off ten seconds. Then she looked down at her phone again. It still didn't feel like a mistake.

She had been alone for a long time. She had never made friends easily, even as a child; had never really been close to anyone except for her parents and her cousin Sae back in Kamakura. When she'd moved to Tokyo four years ago to take this job she'd rented a room in an all-women's apartment house, hoping to set up a ready source of friendships. But most of the residents were college or cram-school students, moving on at the end of every year, and while she considered them her friends she never got around to keeping in touch with them once they'd moved away. She had her friends at work, too, Hitomi and Rika, but aside from the job she had little in common with them. The three of them had met up outside the office a few times, for lunch on weekends or to catch a movie, but even after three years of acquaintance their relationship still hadn't deepened into the kind of closeness that Yuriko thought of as true friendship.

And as for a boyfriend, she'd never even had one, not here in Tokyo and not before in Kamakura: no college sweetheart, no high-school crush. Sure, she'd gone on a couple of dates since moving to the big city -- actually, Rika had set things up on both occasions -- but it had never been anything serious.

Normally her perpetual solitude didn't bother her, at least not enough to make her want to change things like this, but ever since Tokyo Tower the day before yesterday...

Yuriko looked down at her phone, fingering the small plastic tanuki figurine on its silk cord that dangled from the handset. Maybe it was that she'd finally given up on the magic.

When she was eleven she'd had this fantasy that her prince would come galloping up on a brown horse and sweep her off her feet -- it was a brown horse for some reason, not a white one -- that he'd come to live with her in her house -- not take her away to his castle for some reason, but just come live with her in her house -- and that he'd tame monsters for her with his sword -- not slay them, just tame them.

The year after, she'd gotten interested in science fiction and the horse had transmuted into a spaceship.

She hadn't planned this, hadn't thought about it at all before the moment it had happened. Her mother had asked the familiar question, the question she'd always brushed off with a mix of embarrassment and mild annoyance, and this time some part of her had given in. It had been... easy. So easy it almost made her wonder why she'd resisted before. The matchmaker would set up some marriage meetings. She'd meet a nice young local man and get married. He'd be a professional so she could give up her job, could move back to Kamakura and be close to her parents and her cousin again. She would have an ordinary life.

It was time. She couldn't wait for the magic forever. Time was flowing past her, and if she waited too long it would leave her behind. Yuriko slipped the phone into her shoulder-bag and skipped briskly up the steps of the administration building, as the first fat drops of rain spotted the concrete around her.


	5. Leap of faith

**5. Leap of faith **

The public records office would be in the city governmental complex, but the city governmental complex had been moved. Of course it had; with Tokyo's expansion it was to be expected. Kenshin set aside the twinge of frustration, put on a smile, and accosted his fellow pedestrians until he'd gotten a coherent set of directions. Then he started off briskly westward, through the first fat drops of rain.

It was a leap of faith, of sorts. First, that the records even existed, that he'd be able to track his and Kaoru's descendants down through a hundred and sixteen years of earthquakes and fires and wars and the slow forgetting of fading ink and crumbling paper. And second, that they had any descendants left at all after all that history. A part of him was even afraid, afraid to look, afraid that he'd find them killed in the disasters and the wars. Afraid that he was already too late. But it was a fear mixed with hope, and he'd learned long ago that hope would always be stronger. Things that were lost could sometimes be found again, if one had the strength to keep looking. And so, if their progeny were there to be found he would find them, find them and protect their happiness. He had made that promise to Kaoru long ago, and to himself. He could still fulfill it, even if he was a little late.

It was what Kaoru would have wanted.

A noodle shop along the way caught Kenshin's eye, and he realized suddenly that he was ravenously hungry. He'd eaten nothing but a stale rice-cracker since, what, breakfast at home the day before yesterday? Kaoru would have scolded him for that. Kaoru wouldn't have wanted him to starve himself.

He still had the change from the grocery-shopping. He fished out the small cloth wallet from his sleeve pocket and unrolled it, tipping its contents into his palm. It should be enough for a bowl of noodles, at least.

He stepped through the doorway, ducking his head slightly to clear the striped half-curtain.

"Irasshaimase!" The middle-aged woman in the frilly yellow apron called out the sing-song greeting automatically, without looking back at him, as she bent to set down a tray of steaming bowls onto one of the tables in the cramped little eatery.

Kenshin's stomach gurgled as the savory aroma overwhelmed his senses. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and quickly turned to scan the painted menu boards that hung on the wall, looking for the cheapest item. There: plain hot soba. That should be fine. His eyes tracked down to read the price.

Three hundred yen.

_Three hundred yen!_ "Oro--" Kenshin gaped at the sign, his eyes gone wide with disbelief. That was a fortune. More than a fortune. He glanced at the other items on the wall. Four hundred fifty, four hundred fifty, five hundred...

This was no good. He muttered an apology and ducked back through the curtain, to stand on the rain-spotted sidewalk in confusion.

Three hundred yen for a bowl of noodles! He could work and save for ten years and still not be able to afford that. And yet there'd been ordinary people in there, eating their three-hundred-yen noodles.

It couldn't be as expensive as it seemed. They must have changed the currency or something. Kenshin looked down at the worthless coins in his palm, then tucked them absently back into his wallet.

Ah well, he thought, firmly banishing the idea of noodles from his mind. He'd been hungry and penniless more than once before during his years of wandering. He'd just have to find some work, washing dishes or cleaning or something like that. It shouldn't be too hard, not here in the middle of Tokyo. Kenshin put on a smile again and resumed his brisk pace down the sidewalk. He'd do it tonight, he decided, after his visit to the records office. Tokyo was a rich city. Some cafe-owner would be happy to forgo his washing-up at the cost of a bowl of leftover noodles.

o-o-o

The clerk at the public records office found him at closing time, kneeling between the shelves and curled up as if in pain, his bangs brushing the floor. There was a book lying open in front of him.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Kenshin whispered.

"It's just that... we're closing now. Are you sure...?"

"I'm fine," he repeated, his tone unchanged.

"Okay," the clerk said uncertainly. "We open again tomorrow at eight. I'm just going to go finish closing up." The clerk glanced again at the book before he moved on. Tokyo death records, open to 1922.

By the time he returned, Kenshin had gone.

o-o-o

It had been springtime. She had been sixty-one.

Kenshin hadn't expected it to hit him this hard. Somehow it just hadn't been real until now. Somehow some part of him had still expected to turn a corner somewhere in this strange city and see the gates of the Kamiya dojo in front of him, to push them open and see Kaoru running towards him across the yard, fast in her training hakama and zori, slowing at the last moment to let little Kenji sprint ahead and throw himself into Kenshin's waiting arms. Somehow he'd still expected to hear Kenji's squeal of laughter as he caught up his son and whirled him around, to feel the secure warmth of Kaoru's arms around him as she returned his embrace.

The long twilight and the night that followed were a blur of rain and crippling grief. By dawn the feelings had transmuted into an aching emptiness in his heart, tinged with an odd thankfulness that she'd gone peacefully and not in the earthquake and fire of the following year.

And he couldn't give up, not now. Once this would have broken him. But now he knew he had a responsibility to fulfill. To Kaoru, and to Kenji. Sleep could wait. Noodles could wait. Instead, the rain-dimmed sunrise found him back in front of the records office. He stood patiently under the awning for the next three hours, so that when the office finally opened again his clothes were merely damp.

The clerk did a double-take when he came around the corner from the parking lot to unlock the front doors. Kenshin greeted him politely and hit the books once more.

Seven hours later he sat back and looked over his work, bemused. He'd pored over birth records, marriage records, death records, tracking lives through the bare traces they left in the public books. It had taken him hours to get the hang of writing with a ballpoint pen; he kept trying to hold it like a brush and so his early notes were faint and even more scraggly than usual.

Thirty-eight of them. Incredible.

o-o-o

Two months later, in Kamakura.

Kenshin stood in the welcome shade of an oak and looked up at the apartment block, then glanced down at his notes to double-check the address. Takizawa Sae, apartment 335. The great-granddaughter of Kenji's first daughter, age twenty-nine.

He had visited just over half of them so far, starting with the ones in Tokyo and working his way down the list in no particular order, introducing himself as a distant relative. For the most part they had accepted him happily, inviting him in, making small-talk and tea, sharing bits and pieces of their lives. It was amazing, incredible, almost overwhelming meeting these people: his and Kaoru's descendants, people he looked at as his own family if not his own _children_, yet people who had been born and raised in this modern era, so different from his own time.

It was still a thrill, ringing a bell or knocking on a door, waiting to see who would answer. The first one had been almost terrifying.

From time to time they had asked him about himself. He'd tended toward vagueness, answering their questions but avoiding the specifics. It was not quite as easy as it had been during his years as a wanderer -- people cared more about the stories of a relative than those of a mere rurouni -- but so far he seemed to have pulled it off. He hadn't specified exactly how he was related to them. He hadn't mentioned the Meiji era. He didn't want them to think he was insane. And he hadn't specified where he was staying, either. He was here to protect their happiness. He didn't want them worrying about him sleeping in the open.

When asked, he'd given them the address of the noodle shop in Shinjuku where he'd been working three or four nights a week. None of them had come looking for him there, though, at least not that he was aware of. Their lives were stable, content, safe. It filled him with relief. And yet...

And yet their happiness needed no protecting. Even if it had, what could he have done? He wasn't a part of their lives, and the dangers of this new era were dangers against which a sakabatou was truly useless. And so, even as he met these people, these kinfolk, he'd closed himself off little by little, easing back into the life of a rurouni, of one who wanders with no home and no destination.

They didn't know him. They didn't need him.

By itself, of course, that was irrelevant. They didn't know him now, but in time they could. They didn't need his protection, but that didn't have to matter. The truth was that he kept seeing the traces of Kaoru in them, in the curve of a cheekbone, the point of a nose, the shape of a chin, the color and texture of hair. The recognition brought back the grief, every time, so that he'd taken to spending the night after each visit just wandering the streets, waiting for the pain to go away.

What was wrong with him? This was supposed to be wonderful. It _was_ wonderful; it was fantastic meeting these people, his and Kaoru's descendants, his genuine family. So why was it tearing his heart out?

It had taken him two months to get this far, two months to visit twenty people in Tokyo. The rest had scattered across the country; there were a few here in Kamakura, one in Shizuoka, an extended family of eleven in the farming country on the outskirts of Nagoya.

Half way down his list. By the end of summer it would be over.

It had been a relief to get out of the city, to spend a day walking through the green open spaces, around the outskirts of Yokohama and down the long valley, crisscrossed now with roads and long stretches of houses but still dominated by the bright familiar green of rice fields. He had climbed the sandy bluffs that curved away toward the southeast to enclose Tokyo Bay, had paused on their crest among the high coarse grasses to look down upon Kamakura and the blue crescent of the sea beyond.

He had camped for three nights now in the densely wooded hills north of the town. Friday, the day before yesterday, he'd visited the Maekawas: Maekawa Takeshi, the grandson of Kenji's first daughter, and his wife Yoko. It had been a shock when Takeshi answered the door. It honestly hadn't occurred to Kenshin that his own red hair would be passed down the line, albeit muted by the generations into a sandy orange.

He would visit Takizawa Sae today, the Maekawas' niece, and then make a visit to Takeshi's younger brother and his two small children. He'd expected to meet the Maekawas' adult daughter as well, but she'd moved to Tokyo a few years back. He'd have to go back there to visit her. Later, he'd decided. First he would continue south. Sae's parents had moved to Shizuoka some years before; he'd follow the old coast road there, and then onward to Nagoya.

Kenshin climbed the stairs of the apartment block and knocked on the door, his heart hammering in anticipation. Takizawa Sae. This part was always wonderful.

She opened the door after a moment, and he smiled at her.

"Takizawa Sae-dono?"

o-o-o

Takizawa Sae had not been expecting a visitor, so when she'd heard the knock at her door she'd assumed it would be a canvasser for one or another of the local Diet candidates, or perhaps one of those annoying evangelists who'd been roaming Kamakura in recent months. But the genuine joy in her visitor's smile banished those thoughts immediately.

She looked him up and down, this odd-looking little person with the long red hair and the child-like violet eyes and the shocking scar on his cheek, and invited him into her home.

o-o-o

Takizawa Sae. She was charming, sweet, so vividly alive. And she was beautiful, too: her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, just like--

Kenshin's mind had clamped down on that thought, setting it aside to deal with later, skipping on to other things. Like her honey-brown eyes, and the way she put a hand over her mouth when she laughed.

Sae's life, as Kenshin promptly learned, was stable, content, and safe. She had offered him tea and a seat on her squashy couch and they'd made small-talk for an hour. She had commented on his hair -- a much more vivid red than her uncle's -- and asked him if he'd been performing in the festival. It had taken Kenshin several minutes to realize that she was referring to his clothing and his sword.

He'd been carrying the sakabatou openly for just over two months now, through the center of Tokyo and in and out of public buildings, and not a soul had mentioned it until now. It wasn't as if swords were common in this era -- he hadn't seen a single other person carrying one -- but somehow people had chosen not to notice it. It was a bit of a relief, considering his multiple run-ins with the police in the first few years after the sword-banning act had gone into force.

He'd replied a bit evasively, and Sae hadn't pressed him on it. She was polite. And it didn't really matter to her, anyway. She had her own life, safe and content. Like the rest of them, her life would brush against his for only a moment, and then they would each go on in their separate ways. Sae was kinfolk, however distant. But she was still a stranger.

All he needed was to know that she was happy. That was enough.

Sae had brought him a bit of paper and a pen to write down his address; he'd given her that of the noodle shop in Tokyo, but told her that he'd likely be traveling for the rest of the summer and so wouldn't be reachable there. She'd made some comment about him following the festival circuit and he hadn't denied it. Better not to go into too much detail about his current mission; he'd made that mistake in his first few weeks in Tokyo, and generally the reactions had been less than positive. Better to say that he was in town for a few days, just for a short visit, and he'd thought to look up some distant relatives while he was here. Sae had given him a standing invitation to drop by the next time he found himself in Kamakura, and he'd thanked her sincerely. And that was it. Nothing more to say but the formalities and the good-byes.

Kenshin sensed the ki outside a half-second before he heard the footsteps on the landing. He blinked, startled, losing the thread of Sae's description of the must-see tourist attractions of Kamakura.

It felt... familiar.

It felt like Kaoru's.

He knew that ki, that blend of optimism and determination, had known it since that first day in Tokyo when she'd attacked him in the street with a bokken. Unmistakable, and completely impossible. He turned towards the door, half afraid to look.

She knocked twice, opened the door, stuck her head in. "Hey, Sae?" she called. "I'm heading back now, I just--" She broke off then, eyes wide, staring at Kenshin.

Sae had hopped up from the couch, had called out a greeting, had half-crossed the living room before turning back towards Kenshin. "Oh, Himura-san, this is my cousin, Maekawa Yuriko."

White collared blouse navy pleated skirt black buckled shoes cream-and-maroon bag over her left shoulder, hair to her collarbones curling with the heat and auburn instead of blue-black. Thirty or maybe a bit older, and she was taller, taller than him by a good four inches.

Her face was different. But her eyes were blue. Her eyes were Kaoru's.

Kenshin's heart clenched painfully. "Kaoru," he whispered. He couldn't breathe. He was on his feet, somehow, though he couldn't remember getting up. There was nothing in the world but her eyes.

Sae was looking back at him, puzzled. "Her name's Yuriko, not--"

"It's... it's you..." she whispered.

Kenshin's vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears.

"Kaoru."

"Ken...shin?"

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_Irasshaimase! - Welcome, as to a shop. There are electronic gizmos that will call it out when a customer opens the shop door. _

_soba - buckwheat noodles _

_Diet - the lower house of parliament of Japan _

_This chapter is dedicated to the ever-insightful Omasu, who half-guessed it already after reading chapter 1. _


	6. An unexpected meeting

**6. An unexpected meeting **

"Kenshin!"

Maekawa Yuriko shrieked the name and hurled herself across the room, letting her shoulder-bag fall away behind her, letting everything fall away as she caught him and wrapped him in her arms. Her breath hitched in her throat at the moment of impact and she sobbed, once, overwhelmed. Kenshin had stiffened as she caught him; she could feel the tension in his body, could remember the way the color had drained from his face at the moment their eyes had met.

She was trembling all over, her heart beating very fast. She closed her eyes and squeezed him tighter, sliding one hand up to cradle the back of his head and pressing her cheek against his hair, swept by a sudden panicky feeling that if she let him go he'd slip away and she'd lose him forever.

"Kenshin," she whispered. "Kenshin."

She felt him take a shaky breath, felt the tension in him slowly begin to drain away, felt the slight shift of his arms under her own as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment, then laid them gently on her back, returning the embrace.

A new wave of emotion flooded through her, a feeling of _rightness_ so intense as to squeeze tears out between her eyelashes. She could feel his heartbeat, just a little below her own. This was so familiar, so _right_, the firm warmth of his body against hers, the gentle security of his arms around her. So familiar, except--

_-- she had lifted her chin just a bit, his shoulder fractionally higher than hers as he held her --_

Yuriko opened her eyes, dispelling a slight disorientation, and glanced down at Kenshin in her arms. He had rested his face against her shoulder; something hot and moist was starting to seep through her blouse. Yuriko loosened her arms a little to give him room to breathe and took a breath herself, trying to get a grip on her emotions.

From the moment she'd seen him, there'd been no room for any other thoughts. Now she glanced around Sae's apartment and realized she hadn't even taken off her shoes.

Sae was standing quietly an arm's length away, watching her. Watching them, with a sympathetic smile on her face and a box of kleenex in one hand. Yuriko blushed and ducked her head, glancing down at her feet on Sae's nice gray carpeting.

"Oh, Sae, I'm sorry!" Her voice was unsteady with emotion. She cleared her throat.

But Sae was waving away her apology with a grin. "If Himura-san had said he knew you, I would've brought him over to your parents' place from the start," she quipped, and held out the box of tissues.

Yuriko took one and quickly wiped her eyes. She hadn't cried in front of Sae like this in a long time; hadn't cried like this at all in years. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. But seeing Kenshin again...

She'd missed him so much. His beautiful eyes, his ridiculous red hair, his small body hidden in those oversized clothes. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him.

_Missed him..._

Yuriko glanced back at Kenshin. He'd tensed again at Sae's voice and straightened up, slowly, as if he were afraid to move. He was standing stiffly beside her now, still facing the door, his hands hidden in the sleeves of his kimono and his face carefully blank. His cheeks were wet with tears.

Yuriko's gaze softened. Of course; he wouldn't want to be seen crying in front of them. No hiding the big damp patch on the shoulder of her blouse, though. She plucked a couple more tissues from Sae's box and turned to offer them discreetly to Kenshin, a reassuring hand on his arm. He hesitated again for a second, eyes still fixed on some inner distance; then he bowed his head, sagging a little as he reached up to accept them. She gave his arm a little squeeze before letting him go. Then she toed off her shoes and crouched to pick them up.

"Have a seat," Sae was saying, waving them toward the couch. "I'll go make some more tea." She set down the box of tissues on her coffee table and started toward the kitchen.

Yuriko knew immediately what Sae was doing: offering them time alone, time to talk. Sae was so good at that. Her younger cousin, so much more mature, so much better at relating to people. But it wouldn't work. She had to go back to Tokyo this evening, and she'd only dropped in to say goodbye.

"Sae, wait." Yuriko reached out a hand toward her cousin. Kenshin had dried his face and was watching them now, quiet but tense and wide-eyed, his hands hidden again in his sleeves. "I'm going back tonight. If I don't leave now I'll miss the train."

"Come on; there's a train every hour! Can't you just take a later one?" Sae gave her a pointed look, indicating Kenshin with her eyes.

"But--" Yuriko started, flustered, trying to pull her thoughts into order. Everything was a jumble, her awareness of Kenshin standing mere inches away sending her mind reeling.

A later train. Yes, she could take a later train, but then she'd be late for dinner.

"I can't," she began again. "We've got a house dinner tonight. I can't be late; they'll all be waiting for me." She'd told her housemates she'd be back for the dinner. She couldn't leave them hanging.

"Just call," Sae prompted. "They'll understand."

"Ah. Yeah." Yuriko glanced around, feeling like an idiot. Her shoulder-bag was lying on the floor beside the coffee table, where she'd dropped it in her mad rush across the room. She knelt down on the carpet next to it and fumbled with one hand for her phone, still clutching her shoes awkwardly in the other.

Sae was right, she thought, blushing again. Her fingers found the little plastic tanuki on the end of her phone's charm cord and she yanked the thing out of her bag, then grabbed it off the floor and flipped it open one-handed. Of course Sae was right. She could call, tell her housemates to go ahead with dinner without her, stay here and talk with Kenshin for, what, an hour? Two? And then?

Yuriko hesitated, her thumb hovering over the keypad.

No. An hour, two hours, that time would make no difference. She was looking up again at Kenshin, afraid to take her eyes off him, still afraid he'd disappear. How could she go away and leave him here? She set down her phone and got to her feet.

"Kenshin?" she said.

"Yes?" He was standing very still, hands clutching the damp tissues, face still carefully blank save for his eyes which were wide and tinged with panic.

"Let's go back to Tokyo together."

o-o-o

It was impossible. It was simply impossible.

Kenshin knew now how Sano had felt, all those years ago on the train to Yokohama. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and even sitting on the train he couldn't quite catch his breath.

This train would pass through Yokohama too, on its way back to Tokyo. The rumble and clack of its wheels were loud in his ears, almost painful against his over-alert senses. It was crowded, too, the carriage full of people returning to the city on a Sunday evening, the masses of humanity setting his nerves on edge. The only mercy was that they were quiet, reading their newspapers or books or thumbing at small gadgets like the one that Yuriko had pulled out of her bag back at Takizawa Sae's apartment.

Yuriko. It wasn't the noise or the crowd that was making Kenshin's hands tremble. She had looked at him with Kaoru's eyes.

He'd never believed in ghosts. He'd never believed in destiny. He'd never really believed in reincarnation either, not literally, not more than in the abstract sense, the sense of a 'next life' in which those who died unfulfilled could hope to find some measure of happiness.

She had looked at him with Kaoru's eyes.

He was staring again down the aisle to where Yuriko sat wedged between an elderly woman and a skinny young man on one of the benches near the far end of the carriage, her cream-and-maroon shoulder-bag clutched in her lap.

She was no ghost, that much was certain. She was Maekawa Yuriko, daughter of Takeshi and Yoko. He'd seen her photograph just two days before, on the shelf in her parents' living room. They had said she was coming down for a marriage meeting. He could have gone back to meet her yesterday, but he hadn't wanted to interfere with their plans. He'd decided to wait, to visit her in Tokyo, to make her the last stop on his journey.

In the photograph, he hadn't seen it. He'd seen only the shape of her face, so like her mother's, and her auburn hair an echo of her father's orange. He'd noticed that her eyes were blue, like Kaoru's. But he hadn't seen Kaoru's soul looking out through them.

They had left Sae's apartment in a rush, hurrying together through the clean tree-lined streets of Kamakura, through the air thick with heat and the piercing buzz of the cicadas, down through the center of town to the station. One of his hands had been wrapped tight in Yuriko's, the other clutching the handle of the small wheeled suitcase that he'd taken from her outside Sae's door.

He had watched her silently as she'd bought tickets from a machine set in the station wall, had followed her without a word as she'd pushed through the gates and run down the stairs to the platform, had stood beside her in the crowd as she'd exclaimed her relief at making it to the train on time. They'd had to wait only a few minutes to board. The train was packed; they'd been lucky to find seats in the same carriage. Too much to ask that they be next to each other.

He hadn't said more than a handful of words to her. He'd been too overwhelmed to speak, and even as they'd left Sae's apartment he'd already been shaking like a leaf. And now, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He kept thinking it can't be, it can't be possible, he must have dreamed it, hallucinated it, seen what he so desperately wanted to see but what couldn't possibly be real. Seen Kaoru's eyes in another's face.

But she had known his name, had called it with that breathless lilt in her voice, achingly familiar. Had thrown her arms around him and held tight, as if she too had been searching.

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he'd lost his mind. Maybe he'd fallen into a ditch on the long walk to Kamakura and was sleeping there now, with a fox-spirit sitting laughing on the bank and feeding fantasies into his head. But it didn't matter now. Dreaming or not, he couldn't take his eyes off her. If he looked away, she might not be there when he looked back.

She glanced up again and their eyes met, sending a panicky shiver down Kenshin's back.

Maybe he should be afraid, he thought. Impossible things shouldn't happen in the real world. That was why they were impossible, wasn't it? But another impossible thing had happened to him already, in an alley behind the market two months and a hundred and sixteen years ago.

And it didn't matter now anyway, because she'd said those words. _Let's go back to Tokyo together._ Those words had reached straight into his heart, and he'd known then, impossible or not, that he would follow her to the end of the world.

o-o-o

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him.

Yuriko had watched him all through the hour's train ride up from Kamakura, had nearly panicked when the crush of passengers had separated them as they'd disembarked at Tokyo Station, had caught a fleeting glimpse of red hair amongst the crowd on the platform and shoved her way frantically through to catch him and hold him tight for a minute, had led him by the hand through the teeming maze of the station and down to the subway for the final leg of her journey home.

The subway had been mercifully uncrowded. They'd slid onto a bench together, her shoulder-bag on her lap and her suitcase in front of Kenshin's knees. He'd taken his sword out of the waistband of his hakama and leaned it against the window to his left. And he looked a little more relaxed now; he'd been watching her with those huge panicky eyes all during the train ride up from Kamakura. It had started to make her worry that something was wrong. Now at least they'd have a chance to talk.

"Kenshin," she started.

"Yes?" He looked over at her immediately, as if startled, but there was a slight smile on his face now.

"Ah..." A chance to talk, but about what? Yuriko looked down at her shoulder-bag in her lap, feeling suddenly awkward. "Thanks for carrying my suitcase."

He shrugged. "It's not too heavy," he said lightly. "And it has these little wheels, that it does." He leaned forward and tilted the suitcase to look again at the wheels on its bottom, as if they were a novelty to him.

He didn't have any luggage of his own, she realized belatedly. "Kenshin..." she said with a wince. "I hope I didn't just shanghai you."

"Hmm?" He looked back up at her, head tilted slightly to one side, a question in his eyes as if he hadn't understood what she'd just said.

Did he live in Kamakura? Was he just visiting? Yuriko had no idea. He could easily have moved since she'd seen him last, she thought. And she couldn't quite remember where he'd lived back then, either.

No matter, she thought. It would come to her. More importantly, she hadn't given him a chance to say anything; she'd just whisked him off to the station with her. He'd been too polite to complain.

"Are you going to have to go back?" she asked him. "For clothes and stuff?"

"Oh, no." Kenshin shook his head and smiled, as if to dismiss her concern. "There's nothing to go back for, that there isn't."

"But you haven't got any luggage, all you've got is--" Her gaze stopped on his sword, leaning unobtrusively against the window. The sword hadn't even registered until now. It had just seemed natural, an integral part of his outfit. Of course he was carrying a sword, just like of course he was wearing a frayed hakama over a very pink old-fashioned kimono and battered zori and purple split-toe socks.

"It's all right, Kaoru, that it is." He was smiling at her again, a hint of laughter in his eyes and the panic all but gone. "Please don't worry about me."

Should it have seemed odd?

Yuriko was trying to put the question together when the train began to slow again. "Oh. This is our stop," she said, and stood to give Kenshin some room, holding the grab-rail to steady herself as the train decelerated into the station and jolted to a halt. The doors swished open.

Kenshin had gotten to his feet and slid the sword back into his waistband, balancing effortlessly against the movement of the train. He picked up her suitcase by the handle and followed her out onto the fluorescent-lit platform, looking around curiously.

"It's this way," she said, pointing toward the stairs. They crossed the platform and started up the short flight of steps.

"So, Kenshin..." Yuriko began again, as he fumbled with his ticket at the exit gates. What could she ask him that wouldn't sound stupid? Had he been to Tokyo before? He didn't seem to know how to use the subway, she thought, smirking a little. And she hadn't seen him since she'd moved here four years ago.

Or had she? Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember. All she knew was that it had been such a long time. God, how she'd missed him.

At last he got the gate to accept his ticket, and hurried through to her side with an embarrassed duck of his head.

"So, Kenshin," she repeated lightly over her shoulder as they walked on. "Where have you been all this time?"

And suddenly Kenshin was no longer beside her. She looked back, startled, to where he'd stopped dead in his tracks in the entrance hall of the station, between the florist and the newsagent, a stricken look on his face.

"Oh, Kaoru..." he breathed. "I'm so sorry." He'd dropped his eyes to the floor in front of him, unable to hold her gaze. "I'm truly sorry you had to wait so long."

Oh, god, she shouldn't have said it, Yuriko thought as she hurried back to him. There had been a bleakness in his voice, a pain that he hadn't quite been able to hide. "No, please, Kenshin," she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. "It's all right. It's not your fault. Really."

At her touch he looked back up at her, and she forced a reassuring smile. His eyes were dry but he looked miserable, as if he'd just become aware that he'd done something terrible. Miserable, and guilty.

"You're here now; that's what matters, right?" She held out a hand to him, held his gaze for a long moment. Finally he sighed, closing his eyes, and reached up to lay his hand in hers.

She closed her fingers firmly around his, closed her eyes momentarily in relief. "Come on, Kenshin," she said softly. "Let's go home." And she led him by the hand out of the station and into the heat and golden sunlight of Tokyo.


	7. Disguise

**7. Disguise **

It was a pleasant neighborhood, filled with trees and remarkably quiet. At least, remarkably quiet for Tokyo. Kenshin let a gentle smile settle onto his face as he followed Yuriko down the street from the subway station and through a park, the wheeled suitcase rolling behind him. The traffic was light, its periodic whoosh and rumble almost drowned out by the cicadas buzzing shrilly in the trees.

Yuriko was pointing out features of the neighborhood as they walked: the children's playground behind the park, a grocery, a small shrine, the hardware store, all of them bathed in the orange light of the lowering sun. Kenshin knew what she was doing. She was filling the conversation with inconsequentials, just to have something to talk about. He didn't mind. If she hadn't been doing it, he would have been.

She had asked him where he'd been all this time. Had she been waiting for him, all those years? The thought filled him with horror. What if she remembered all of it, every minute, from his disappearance in the twenty-first year of Meiji all the way down the long years to her death in 1922? And afterward?

But she'd asked it lightly, making it almost a joke, and she hadn't expected his reaction. How much did she remember?

He was convinced by now that this was Kaoru, truly, that somehow the 'next life' was a literal reality, at least for her. But even if she truly was Kaoru reborn, then why should she remember anything at all? Kenshin certainly didn't remember any kind of 'previous life' of his own. If this kind of thing happened, then surely people would talk about it. And yet he'd never heard of any such thing.

Maybe it was because she'd died still waiting for him to return. His mind flinched at the thought and he swiped at the sudden mist in his eyes. No, he thought harshly, angry at himself; plenty of people died in that state. He would have heard of such a thing.

Yuriko glanced over her shoulder just then, a hesitant smile on her lips. Checking up on him, no doubt. He'd hidden his thoughts immediately, instinctively, slapping a vacuous smile onto his face and pretending to be looking around at the scenery. He took a moment to collect himself before daring to meet her eyes, getting ready to force a smile.

But he didn't have to. The smile came naturally, because she was looking at him with Kaoru's eyes.

Maybe that was it, Kenshin thought as he walked on, a new briskness in his step. Maybe it was seeing him, here, with her new-old eyes. Seeing a person out of that 'previous life,' alive in the here and now. That, certainly, never happened. But maybe that was enough to awaken the dormant memories, to pull up those things that otherwise would have lain deeply buried for the rest of her life.

Still, the question remained: how much did she remember?

They had come out of an alley and turned up another tree-lined street, this one greener and quiet, the buildings set back from the sidewalk. The wheels of the suitcase went _ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump_ on the cracks between the squares of the pavement as they climbed the gentle slope, past trees and bushes and the occasional tile-topped wall.

"Well, here it is!" Yuriko spun towards him with a grin, her auburn hair swinging around her shoulders, and waved an arm back towards the building at the top of the street. "Yanaka Grand Hotel Women's Apartment House!"

o-o-o

It wasn't until she said the name aloud that Yuriko realized there might be a problem. She lowered her arm, turning back around to look at the building with a frown.

It had been the most natural thing in the world to bring Kenshin home with her. Once the thought had come to her, fumbling with her phone at Sae's place, she hadn't questioned it at all; _home with her_ was where Kenshin belonged. But somehow she'd forgotten about her housemates, and somehow she'd forgotten one other small detail.

She lived in an all-women's apartment house.

She glanced back at Kenshin again, wincing internally. He was gazing up at the pale yellow edifice with an absorbed expression, unaware of her discomfiture. Her eyes took in his small figure, his long hair, his delicate features, and then lingered for a moment on her suitcase on its wheels behind him.

A lightbulb went on in Yuriko's head.

o-o-o

It was a large building, three-storeyed, built in a grand solid style that Kenshin vaguely recognized as foreign-influenced modern. By now, of course, it would be old. The pair of enormous cherry trees that flanked the front stair were a dark glossy green; in springtime they would be spectacular.

"Kenshin." Yuriko was waving him toward her. "Come over here for a second." She had stepped off the sidewalk, between the stone wall that surrounded the second-to-last house on the street and the first of the large bushes on the grounds of the old hotel.

Curious, he followed her into a tiny park, no more than a wrought-iron bench and a small triangle of grass, sparse and lanky from the shade. She was smiling an apologetic smile, a hairbrush in her hand. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"There's a small problem, but I know how to fix it," Yuriko said. She held the hairbrush out to him, handle first. "Here. Brush out your hair, okay?"

"A problem?" Kenshin took the brush and reached up to untie his ponytail.

"Don't worry about it; I've got it under control." Yuriko had squatted to open up her suitcase and rummage through its contents.

Well, all right then, Kenshin thought, and started to work on his tangles. Probably something to do with the house dinner she'd mentioned back in Kamakura. Probably the complication of an unexpected guest. Or maybe it was style, he thought as he tugged at a particularly stubborn knot. Fashions had changed a lot, and his clothing was probably hopelessly out of date. But if Yuriko had it under control, then everything would be all right.

He glanced over at her again. She'd taken a couple of things out of her suitcase, a white shirt and something large and blue, and was sitting on the bench now, watching him fondly as he finished the brushing.

"Done?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Great."

He handed the brush back to her and went to tie up his ponytail again.

Yuriko had hopped up from the bench, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "No, leave it down for now. And you'll have to put these on." She handed him the white shirt and smiled her apologetic smile again. "Trust me."

So it was fashion, then. Kenshin sighed and slipped his sakabatou out of the waistband of his hakama. He knew he'd feel uncomfortable in these strange modern costumes. But for her sake, he was willing to play along. He turned away from her out of long-ingrained modesty and shrugged out of his kimono.

o-o-o

He wasn't balking. That in itself was remarkable. Yuriko stuffed the hairbrush back into her shoulder-bag and waited, holding the blue jumper in her lap, watching as Kenshin stripped off his kimono and fumbled with the blouse. He stuck his arms into the sleeves and tried to pull it over his head, then flailed a bit when the buttons trapped him inside.

Yuriko smiled. He'd managed to extricate himself from the blouse, but now his hair was all over the place again. He inspected the garment briefly, trying to work out what had gone wrong, his perplexed look obvious from the tilt of his head. Then he started undoing the buttons, one by one.

She watched him affectionately. It was so familiar, the way he moved, the intense color of his hair. She was sure only one person in Japan could have hair like that. It felt so natural watching him like this, like she'd done it countless times.

Her eyes played across his bare shoulders as he worked his way down the row of buttons. There was a faint white scar there, running diagonally across his back from his right shoulder to the left side of his waist, half hidden by the thick spill of his hair. It reminded her of... of something. What was it? She stretched out a finger, not to touch him, just to trace the line of it in the air. It was as if he'd been...

_-- slashed across the back with a sword and that wasn't even the worst of it and he'd almost died and he'd saved Japan, they'd all saved Japan, she and Yahiko and Misao-chan and all the rest had fought and won but Sanosuke had carried him back covered in blood and he'd almost DIED --_

Yuriko gasped and snatched back her hand, shocked by the intensity of the emotions that had poured into her mind.

"Kaoru? What is it? Is something wrong?" Kenshin had whirled around toward her immediately, his eyes wide with concern. But the images were gone now, leaving her head ringing. She looked away for a moment, blushing, glad for the support of the bench beneath her.

"No, I, I'm fine. It's nothing." She glanced back at him and smiled uncertainly. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Really, it's nothing."

He held her eyes for another moment, as if to be certain, and then nodded slightly, his lips thinning briefly into a faint smile of acceptance. He'd finished unbuttoning the blouse; he held it up for a moment's inspection, then slipped it on and started fastening up the buttons again.

It was nothing, wasn't it? Yuriko fretted at the fading aftertaste of the emotions in her mind as her stomach slowly unknotted itself. It was just a distant memory, that was all. And it had all happened so long ago, that battle in Kyoto. No need to bring it up now. Yuriko pushed the thought away. She didn't want Kenshin worrying about her.

Kenshin had finished buttoning up the blouse and was looking at her expectantly.

She got to her feet again and held up the blue jumper. "This goes over the top," she said. "Here, stick your arms up and I'll help you." She bunched up the fabric and dropped it over his head.

Anyway, Yuriko thought as she settled the jumper's wide straps over his shoulders and scooped his hair free, Kenshin was here, now, in front of her, strong and healthy and unhurt. The scar across his back had long since faded.

Unlike the one on his cheek. Yuriko pursed her lips. She'd have to do something about that.

o-o-o

Kenshin had tucked his arms back inside the enveloping blue garment to discreetly untie his hakama. He let it slide down around his ankles and stepped out of it, then gathered it up and laid it on the bench beside his kimono. He felt like he was wearing a giant sack, albeit one made of nice soft cotton.

Yuriko was rummaging again in her shoulder-bag. She glanced up at his expectant look.

"It ties in back. D'you want help?"

"No thanks; I've got it, that I do," Kenshin replied, finding the ties hanging at either side of his waist. He knotted them behind his back.

Yuriko was grinning at him, looking slightly giddy. She seemed to have forgotten her earlier shock. He wondered what it had been that had startled her so badly.

"Okay now, let me just fix your hair...." She reached towards him and he ducked his head slightly, to make it easier for her. For a moment there he'd felt a flicker of the old instinct to dodge away from the touch. But this was Kaoru. Everything would be all right.

She smoothed down his hair and parted it with her fingers, pushing his bangs over to one side and holding them while she manipulated something with her other hand. Kenshin strained his eyes sideways to see without moving his head. They were hairpins, thin black hairpins with little blue flowers on the ends. She slid a couple of them into his bangs above his left eye and then let go. His hair stayed up. Kenshin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Great, now hold still," she said. "Just one more thing to do." She tilted his chin upward with one hand and snapped something open below his line of vision. Then she started dabbing at his face with... a sponge? It had a dry, slightly chemical smell to it. Kenshin wrinkled his nose. Was this part of the fashion?

"Kaoru..."

"Mm-hmm?" Yuriko continued her handiwork, frowning with concentration as she brushed something silky onto his cheek.

"What are you doing?"

"What am I...? You mean you haven't...?" She looked at him with hilarious incredulity for a moment, and then broke out laughing. "Silly Kenshin," she chortled, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm dressing you up as a girl!"

_As a...?_

Kenshin boggled.

"Women's Apartment House, remember? I'm not leaving you out here on the street, not after dragging you all the way back to Tokyo. Now hold still and let me finish this."

And yet somehow, this seemed very much like something Kaoru would do.

o-o-o

Her main purpose had been to hide the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. But once she'd started, she'd realized that this was the perfect way to complete the disguise. She dabbed a little pink lipgloss onto his lips. That should be enough. She didn't want to overdo it.

"Okay," Yuriko said. "Let's see how you look." She took him by the shoulders and stepped back a pace to examine her handiwork at arm's length.

Her eyes widened. "Oh my god," she breathed, and started giggling again.

She had done a spectacular job. The clothes were a bit big on him, but the jumper complimented his petite figure and the red hair hanging thick and shining to his waist would have made any girl jealous. If she had met him on the street like this, she almost wouldn't have recognized him. Almost.

Kenshin, however, looked miserable, his eyes wide and mournful under his pinned-up bangs and his pinkened lips turned down in a small frown. "Kaoru, I really don't think this is a good idea, that I don't..."

"Come on, what am I supposed to do? It'll just be for tonight, and then I'll figure something out." She dropped the tube of lipgloss back into her shoulder-bag, trying not to grin. It just wasn't fair. He was cuter than she would ever be.

She gathered up his hakama and the magenta kimono, folded them twice over her arm and stuffed them into the top of her suitcase. They were bulkier than her clothing, especially that big flappy hakama. It was a good thing she hadn't brought too much stuff with her to Kamakura. And it was a good thing her mom had washed the blouse and jumper for her. This was going to work. This had better work.

Kenshin was fiddling with his sword, trying to figure out how to attach it to his new costume.

"Here, I've got it," she said, taking it from him and sliding it down hilt-first into her suitcase. The bottom foot-and-a-half of the sheath stuck out. She pulled the zippers up around it. "There. If anyone asks, it's a souvenir, okay?"

Kenshin sighed, closing his eyes and sagging a little. "All right."

"Now let's go," Yuriko said, slinging her bag up onto her shoulder and grasping the handle of her suitcase. "We're almost late for dinner." She caught Kenshin's hand and laced her fingers between his. "And cheer up!" she added as he opened his eyes to follow her. "Everything's going to be fine!"


	8. Late for dinner

**8. Late for dinner **

It was good to be home. Or at least, it should have been good to be home. At the moment, Yuriko was too anxious about how her housemates would react to Kenshin.

"Yuriko dear!" It was Takamori, the house manager, bustling across the high-ceilinged foyer with a broom in her hand. "Welcome back! And you've brought a visitor!" Takamori smiled cheerily, peering at Kenshin through her thick plastic-rimmed glasses.

Kenshin was blushing, a faint pink across his cheekbones that made him look even cuter.

"Hana and Midori have just finished the cooking," Takamori continued in her scratchy voice, pottering across the floor to put the broom away in a small closet near the door. She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled off her red-and-white checkered headscarf, freeing a bushy halo of curls. "You'd best go get washed up, eh, Yuriko dear? I'm sure they'll be starting dinner in a second. And your friend...?" Takamori cast another glance toward Kenshin and smiled expectantly.

Yuriko moistened her lips. Keep moving forward, she told herself. She was running on instinct, and if she lost her momentum, she'd lose her nerve.

"Takamori-san, this is my cousin," she lied, catching Kenshin briefly by the arm. "She's just come in to Tokyo this afternoon. Is it all right if she stays here with me tonight? I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier; it was kind of sudden, she's just come in from the countryside today--"

"Of course, of course!" Takamori had pottered back over, her face wreathed in smiles. "Anything for my girls. I'll set up the spare room, the one at the end of your hall; is that all right, you think, Yuriko dear?" She patted Kenshin's shoulder, peering nearsightedly into his face. "From the country, eh? Isn't that nice. What's your name, dear?"

Yuriko cringed. She hadn't thought of a girl's name for him. In fact, she hadn't thought this through at all. Maybe Kenshin was right, and this wasn't such a good idea--

"Himura Kenshin, that it is." Kenshin's voice was soft, his eyes flicking up once to meet Takamori's before dropping again demurely.

Yuriko winced. _Don't tell her your--_

But Takamori was grinning again, reading Kenshin's acute embarrassment as shyness. "'Devotion,' eh?" she said. "That's so sweet! Traditional, you know, Kenshin dear?"

Yuriko glanced up sharply, nonplussed. _'Devotion?'_ No, that wasn't even close to how his name was written--

Takamori was chuckling, burbling on cheerfully. "Bet you've got sisters at home called Patience, Chastity, Hope..."

o-o-o

_Patience? Chastity?_ Kenshin fidgeted, flustered, shifting his stockinged feet on the smooth wood floor. This had not been a good idea, and Yuriko wasn't helping at all. 'Her cousin from the country,' indeed. Takamori had patted his shoulder, making him grind his teeth with the effort of not flinching away. Her clothes smelled of vervain and cigarette smoke, reminding him incongruously of Saitou Hajime. A short, stocky, female Saitou Hajime, with a pink apron and a bushy head of black curls shot through with the first hints of gray, smiling all over her face and calling him 'dear.'

Yuriko had dressed him up as a girl. The awareness of it was overwhelming, making it impossible to focus on anything else. But she hadn't even done it properly: no layers of flowery kimonos, no geta, no wig or face-paint. She'd just put him into a shirt and a blue smock, brushed out his hair and dabbed a little powder onto his cheeks. The fact that this was enough to fool Takamori made him want to scream.

He kept trying to hide his eyes behind his bangs and failing. It was too frustrating having them pinned up like this, and he could feel his cheeks starting to burn. This felt horribly like one of those embarrassment dreams that he used to have as a child, in which he'd find himself out training with Hiko and suddenly realize that he'd forgotten to put on any clothes. And there was something else bothering him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Yuriko saved him from having to respond to Takamori's speculations by catching hold of his hand.

"Actually she's an only child," she said, a little too loudly. "We should go wash up for dinner; I don't want to keep everybody waiting."

That was it: a flash of ki from behind him, where the carpeted staircase came down into the foyer. Not hostility, just... suspicion? Or something else? Kenshin glanced back.

It was a dark-haired woman, younger than Yuriko, pausing at the foot of the stairs to watch them. To watch _him_. His eyes touched hers and she looked away hurriedly, stepping down from the last stair and disappearing through the large doorway beyond.

Odd.

"Kenshin?"

Yuriko was tugging at his hand. He hadn't been paying attention. "Hmm?"

"Come on; let's go get washed up." She was moving already, drawing him towards the opposite side of the foyer, away from where the dark-haired woman had gone, away from Takamori who was still standing and grinning at him cheerily.

Kenshin looked back, flustered again.

"No, don't worry about the suitcase; we can get it after dinner," Yuriko continued hastily, steering him into the hallway. "Come on. The bathroom's through here."

o-o-o

"Oh, Kenshin, I am so sorry about this." Yuriko had shut the bathroom door behind her and was leaning against it, eyes closed. It was a swinging door, Western-style, on hinges like the front door to the building had been. Kenshin had noticed a couple of normal sliding doors off the hallway as well -- this building was something of a mish-mash of styles.

"It's--" he began hesitantly, still off-balance from the conversation with Takamori.

"No, honestly; if you want to, we can just go up to my room," she continued, straightening up and opening her blue eyes to look at him seriously. "We don't have to go to dinner. I can bring up some food. You don't have to face everybody like this."

Kenshin blinked, realizing suddenly what Yuriko was saying. She'd clearly been worried while talking to Takamori, and it was obviously because of him. He felt a sudden flood of guilt.

"No, no, Kaoru, please! You needn't skip your dinner on my account!"

She had come back tonight specifically for this house dinner. For him to cause her to miss it.... That would be inexcusable. No matter how uncomfortable he might feel dressed like this, it was no reason for Yuriko to miss her house dinner.

"Are you...?" she started.

"Everything's fine," he continued, smiling at her. "It was just a little... a little awkward at first, meeting Takamori-dono for the first time. But everything's fine, that it is."

Yuriko returned his smile hesitantly, stepping towards him away from the door.

"It will be very nice to meet the other people who live in your house, that it will, Kaoru," he added.

"You're sure?" She looked hopeful. She must have been looking forward to this dinner.

"Yes, of course," he said, and decided that it really would be nice to meet Yuriko's housemates. No matter how uncomfortable he might feel dressed like this, he would try harder, for her sake.

She smiled at him again, relief and a bit of guilt mingling in her eyes. "Thanks, Kenshin," she said, and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. Intimate.

He sighed, happy just to be near her.

"Let's..." she added, gesturing toward the row of washbasins along one of the walls.

"Ah." They were still in a hurry, weren't they. Kenshin twisted on the taps briefly to wet his hands, then soaped them vigorously. There was a long mirror mounted on the wall above the washbasins, remarkable for its lack of distortion. He frowned at his reflection as he washed his hands.

He really didn't look all that different. The main thing was his hair -- it seemed positively tamed, brushed out and parted and pinned up on one side like this. And Yuriko had used the face-powder to hide his scar. Other than that, though, he looked much the same as usual. He turned the taps back on and rinsed his hands.

Yuriko had finished her washing-up and was humming to herself now as she gave her hair a few quick strokes with her brush. At least she seemed happier now. It bothered him that she'd offered to skip her dinner for his sake. His earlier discomfiture must have been much more obvious than he'd realized.

Kenshin dried his hands carefully as Yuriko had done, then wrapped the end of the towel around his wrist and tried to press the water out of the cuff of the blouse. He should have rolled it up. He wasn't used to this style of clothing.

He tugged at the ends of his sleeves and smoothed down the blue jumper. At least he hadn't given himself away to Takamori, he thought. If he gave himself away, Yuriko would take part of the blame for this deception. And that would just be unacceptable.

Takamori hadn't seen through it, but then it was clear from her glasses that her vision wasn't the best. Her round brown eyes had looked surprisingly tiny, demagnified by the thick lenses. Yuriko's housemates, however, would be another matter. Had that dark-haired woman on the staircase already seen through him? Had that been why she'd been staring?

Well, Kenshin thought, if she had, there was nothing he could do about it now. He put aside the concern, focusing on the next task at hand. He had to play along with Yuriko's charade, at least for tonight. He could do this, he decided. It wasn't just costume; it was attitude as well. And that was no different from blending in to a crowd. He took a breath, wondering how to project a female ki.

'Harmless' was a good start of course; and 'sweet' and possibly 'dainty.' He turned his feet inward a bit, thinking of the geiko he'd seen every now and then, bright flowers in the streets of Gion. The way they'd moved had been more than dainty; it had been _feminine_. What else? Quiet, obviously; undemanding, humble... This shouldn't be too difficult. He fixed a pleasant smile on his face, waggled his eyelashes experimentally, and turned to Yuriko.

"Kaoru?"

"Done," she declared, stuffing the hairbrush back into her shoulder-bag. "Come on, Kenshin! Let's go introduce you to everyone!" And then she smiled at him, brilliantly.

"Oro?"

Kenshin faltered for a moment, eyes wide as he watched her throw open the door and step out into the hallway. Something was fluttering inside him again, making him feel giddy and alive.

Her smile had been Kaoru's smile.

He hadn't said that word, hadn't felt this way for two months, not since his first visit to the public records office when he'd found out she was....

But it was all right now. He could do this. With Kaoru's smile in his eyes, he could do anything.

His own smile widened into a grin, and he hurried after her.

Out of the white-tiled bathroom, down the hall, back through the foyer and across to the large doorway past the stairs. Yuriko had gone in ahead of him. He stepped forward, looking past her shoulder into the dining room. There was a crowd of women already assembled around the high wooden table, lit up by the overhead bulbs and tinted by the orange glow of sunset coming in through the clear glass windows.

Kenshin stopped.

There were smiles on their faces, the food already on the table, the rice bowls being passed around. It was...

It was just like the early days at the Kamiya dojo, before he and Kaoru had been married: the meals together with everyone, Yahiko and Sano fighting over the rice, Megumi-dono flirting mercilessly just to see how long it would take before Kaoru started screaming at her. And the other times, when Tae and Tsubame-chan would come over from the Akabeko, and when Genzai-sensei would bring his grand-daughters and Kenshin would make onigiri for them in the shapes of animals, and then later when he and Kaoru would do the same for little Kenji...

It had been so long since he'd been at a table like this.

And yet...

_-- Yahiko, grown up now almost as tall as Sanosuke, setting a fine standard as the assistant instructor at the Kamiya dojo and well-admired by all the students; Yahiko, confident and sincere, carrying the sword-that-protects into the streets of Tokyo; Yahiko, reduced in recent months to a nervous wreck as he awaited the birth of his and Tsubame's first child --_

_-- Sano, his best friend, who had sailed away from Tokyo all those years ago to take on the world, whom Kenshin had always assumed he would see again some day --_

_-- Megumi, who had gone off to Aizu for two years in search of her family and then returned, to the delight of them all; who had taken over the clinic when Genzai-sensei retired and had started training her own assistant, a shy young man with whom she also flirted mercilessly, to Kenshin's silent amusement --_

_-- Ayame and Suzume, the little girls all grown up into teenagers and becoming more beautiful with each passing year --_

_-- and Kenji, his own child whom he still regarded as a miracle, grown already to the age of eight and when he looked at him he could see him simultaneously as a newborn and a toddler and a small boy and now, going to school already and Kaoru teaching him the shinai --_

He hadn't grieved for any of them. He hadn't gotten past Kaoru.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_geta - traditional Japanese wooden sandals _

_geiko - geisha in the Kyoto dialect _

_Gion - the "pleasure district" of Kyoto _

_onigiri - balls of rice, usually with a bit of fish or pickled plum in the center _

_shinai - training sword made of bound bamboo slats _


	9. Dinner and bed

**9. Dinner and bed **

"Hi everybody, sorry I'm so late!"

The dining room was full, the food already on the table, the rice bowls being passed around. Yuriko was glad they hadn't waited for her. The other women looked up as she breezed through the doorway, Kenshin trailing behind her.

"Yuriko-san!" It was Hana, the youngest and about to start at Tokyo University, jumping up from the table with the rice paddle still in her hand. "We were going to eat everything and not leave any for you!" She winked and stuck out her tongue.

Yuriko forced a laugh. She was ravenous, and the thought of dinner denied threatened to make her cranky. Besides, Kenshin must be hungry too.

"This is my cousin," she said with a backwards wave. "She's here visiting. From the countryside. I asked Takamori-san if she could stay here tonight; I hope nobody minds." They were nodding, smiling in welcome. Hana was already carrying over an extra chair.

"Kenshin--" Yuriko spun back towards him, ready to introduce her housemates, and faltered.

He'd made a tiny sound in his throat, half way between a gasp and a sob. Now he was standing in the doorway, looking small and lost and staring into the room as if stunned. His face had gone pale under the powder on his cheeks and his eyes were...

"Kenshin?"

His eyes were frightening her. She knew suddenly that she'd seen his eyes like that before, empty of everything but pain, as if he'd lost--

A complex mass of emotions was tugging at the corners of Yuriko's mind. She shied away from it, shaking her head to clear it. "Kenshin, come on," she said briskly, and laid her hand on his shoulder to steer him into the room. He swayed slightly at her touch. His eyes hadn't changed. He didn't seem to be breathing.

"Is something wrong?" It was Motoko's voice from the table behind her, a chair scraping loudly in the sudden silence as the other girl got to her feet.

Kenshin flinched at the sound and stepped back, bumping against the doorframe and taking a sudden breath. His eyes were normal again, startled, flitting for a moment across the room. "Sorry!" he yelped. "I'm sorry, Kaoru. Everything's fine, that it is."

Yuriko held on to his shoulder, shielding him from the others' gazes with her body. "Are you sure?" she asked softly. "If there's anything...?"

"No, no, everything's fine." He smiled sweetly, hands up in a placating gesture. "There's no need to worry. You must be hungry, Kaoru, that you must." And he slid a hand gently behind her elbow, guiding her toward the table.

_Kenshin..._ Yuriko bit her lip, aching inside. That smile was familiar too. That smile, and the wall behind it, shutting in his feelings, shutting her out. But she couldn't pry, not now, not here in public. That would only hurt him.

And besides, her housemates were waiting. She watched Kenshin as he settled down on the extra chair, trying to keep the concern out of her eyes. Make something up, she thought. It would help if she actually knew what was wrong.

"Sorry," Yuriko said with an apologetic smile, addressing the table as a whole as she slid into the chair beside Kenshin's. "It's her first time in Tokyo. She's been on the trains all day. It's all kind of a shock, you know?"

o-o-o

Kenshin sighed and poked at the contents of his plate with his chopsticks. The ingredients had seemed normal enough at first -- vegetables and huge chunks of beef cooked in some kind of rich yellow-orange sauce, with ordinary sticky white rice underneath -- but the sauce had a bite to it that made his tongue burn and the flavor was so... so _alien_. Like nothing he'd ever tasted. Like so much of the food in this new era.

Yuriko caught his eye and he smiled back at her, sitting up and reaching for his glass to cover his inattention. He had worried her again, the way he'd nearly lost it back there. He had to get a grip on himself.

At least she seemed happy now; her eyes were sparkling again as she chatted with her housemates. He took a sip of the cold water. Hard to believe that their meeting in Kamakura had been only a few hours ago. It already felt like days.

Kenshin put down his glass and sat up straight, stretching a bit. It was too easy to slouch in these Western-style chairs, and his lower back was aching. Probably just tiredness. His head was hurting again too.

He was getting tired too easily these days, and it was starting to worry him. It wasn't particularly late -- the sun had set but twilight still lingered outside the windows -- and already exhaustion was dulling his senses. He had stopped trying to follow the conversation around the table, instead just letting the familiar sounds of happy chatter wash over him.

It was probably due in part at least to the emotional shocks of the past few hours -- only that long? -- but still, two months of weird food and too little sleep had taken their toll. He had never lost the habit of waking at dawn, and dawn came early to Tokyo in the summer. By itself, that would not have been a problem; but in this new era the city stayed awake far into the night, the lights and noise and foot-traffic making it difficult to sleep in the open. He'd taken to sleeping sitting up, his back to something solid and his sword resting against his shoulder, waking at the slightest sound.

The city was too crowded, and too big. Two months already and he still hadn't been able to find a place where he could sleep through the night undisturbed. That was one of the reasons it had been such a relief leaving for Kamakura. Those nights that he'd spent wandering the streets after the visits to his newfound kinfolk weren't helping either. He'd tried to brush it off, but he knew it was affecting him physically. His cracked rib had taken far too long to heal; even now after two months it still ached at times. Kaoru wouldn't have wanted this.

And the food.... Kenshin sighed again and picked at the rice around the edge of his plate. The noodle shop was all right, but he couldn't eat noodles all the time. He'd learned early on that cooking fires were energetically discouraged in the public parks, and so he'd been living on fruits and raw vegetables and prepared food from the convenience stores. It was expensive, and most of it was very strange. He'd been trying to get used to it, but still he suspected that he'd lost weight. Kaoru wouldn't have wanted this either. In fact, she would have been furious.

_No..._ Kenshin shook himself out of a daze and glanced over at Yuriko beside him. She hadn't seemed to notice anything amiss when he'd changed his clothes. Maybe he was doing all right after all.

He let his eyes linger on her. She was talking animatedly with the young woman with the short hair -- Hana, was it? -- smiling and laughing every now and then. It was so good to see her happy like this. It was so good just to see her.

"Hey, Kenshin-san? Are you doing all right?"

"Oh-?" Kenshin startled. Hana had noticed his gaze and was smiling at him expectantly. "Yes, fine, thanks," he replied with a smile.

"Then don't you like curry-rice?" She indicated his plate with her fingers.

"Oro-" Kenshin glanced down at his plate and then back up at Hana. Her own plate was almost empty. 'Hana and Midori have just finished the cooking,' Takamori's voice echoed in his mind. _Uh oh..._

"No, no, it's very good," he exclaimed. "It's the best curry-rice I've ever had, that it is, Hana-dono," -- technically true, since it was the only curry-rice he'd ever had -- "I'm just not very hungry, that I'm not."

Hana had started to pout but her expression had changed as he'd spoken, and now she was hiding a giggle behind her hand, her brown eyes dancing with amusement.

"Oro?" What was she finding so funny? Kenshin glanced down at his plate again and then back up at Hana, at a loss. "Hana-dono? What is it?"

"It's just--" She giggled again. "It's just the way you talk. Is it 'cos you're from the country?"

"The way I talk?" Kenshin echoed, perplexed. What was wrong with the way he talked? He was just polite, that's all.

"There, you said it again!" Hana was laughing now. "Does everybody from the country talk like they're in some old samurai movie? You even called me 'Hana-dono'!"

Kenshin could feel himself starting to blush. What was wrong with calling her Hana-dono? He shot Yuriko a desperate glance, but she was looking at Hana, an expression somewhere between amusement and discomfort on her face. There were more eyes on him now, half the table, and--

"Leave her alone."

"Motoko-san!" Hana gasped, shrinking as if chastened, the laughter suddenly gone from her eyes.

"I said leave her alone. Do you think she likes that?"

It was the dark-haired woman from before, the one who'd been watching him from the foot of the stairs while he and Yuriko spoke with Takamori. Her face was stern, her gray eyes hard and angry.

Hana bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Kenshin-san," she said, eyes downcast. Now the whole table was watching, the cheer gone out of the room. It had been much better when Hana was laughing at him.

"No, please, Hana-dono, you needn't apologize!" Kenshin held up his hands, warding off Hana's apology. "No offense was taken, so please, you really needn't apologize."

She looked up hesitantly and he gave her an encouraging smile, then glanced round, extending it to the rest of the table. Motoko was looking at him with a tight frown. He tilted his eyebrows at her, turning the smile into a gentle plea. After a moment she sighed and looked away.

The conversations started up again, one by one, and gradually the sound of happy chatter refilled the room as the incident was forgotten. Kenshin dropped his gaze and let the smile slip off his face. He was really too tired for this. But Yuriko had come back to Tokyo for this dinner with her housemates, so he wasn't about to complain.

"Are you all right?" Yuriko said in an undertone, startling him again. She'd been eyeing him for some time, he realized belatedly.

"I'm fine, that I am, Kaoru," he replied quietly, giving her a soft smile and reaching out to gently touch her hand. "A little tired, that's all."

She gave him a penetrating look. "You look exhausted."

He shrugged, letting his eyes show a little guilt. It was so like her, to worry about him like this. "It's nothing," he said, genuine amusement deepening his smile.

"If you want to leave...?" she began.

Kenshin shook his head. It really was nothing, and the happiness in the room was starting to become contagious. He would have stayed even if she hadn't come back to Tokyo for this.

Yuriko returned his smile, a bit of guilt in her eyes as well. "Okay. If you're sure. But only because Midori-chan made pie."

o-o-o

Yuriko lingered for a long moment outside the last door in the second-floor hallway, her palm against the wood and the wistful remnant of a smile on her lips. "Good night, Kenshin," she whispered at last, and then turned to pad quietly back down the hall.

It was only a little past nine, but Kenshin had practically been asleep on his feet by the time they'd made it up here. He had politely declined the slice of banana cream pie that Midori had offered him, doing it in such a discreet and natural way that no one had seemed to notice. Including Yuriko herself. She had only realized it half way through her own slice, when she'd turned to ask him how he liked it and found him sitting with his hands in his lap, gazing vaguely through half-closed eyes at a random spot on the table.

Yuriko had kicked herself mentally. She should have been watching out for him, and instead she'd been ignoring him completely. Somehow he had a knack for making himself inconspicuous, in spite of the red hair. So she'd left her pie half-eaten and made their excuses, drawing Kenshin out into the foyer and onto the stairs before he could wake up enough to protest.

The movement had seemed to revive him a little; he'd hesitated on the stairs, ducking his head shyly and asking her in that indirect way of his if it would be possible for him to bathe before going to bed. So she'd run up to her room for her spare sleeping yukata and then led him back down to the communal bathroom for a quick wash, guarding the door and hoping that none of her housemates would wander by. He had re-emerged within minutes, hair damp and skin glowing from a vigorous scrub. She'd offered to heat up the bath for him, but he'd declined with a smile.

He was good at that, wasn't he, she reflected now as she made her way back down the stairs. Good at declining gracefully. Good at not being a bother. It was only later as she'd helped him lay out the futon in the spare room that she'd realized he was just too tired.

It was too bad. The baths here were especially nice. In fact, they had been one of those extra little features that had sold Yuriko on this apartment house in the first place. There were two of them, both outdoors, a small traditional free-standing furo on the veranda and the other, large and luxurious, sunk into the formal garden like an artificial hot-spring left over from the building's grand days as a hotel.

But more than that, it worried her. He'd clearly been under a lot of stress; a nice hot soak would at least have helped him relax. She wished again that she knew what had been wrong. But it had been a rollercoaster day for them both, hadn't it, and Kenshin was here with her now. With Kenshin here, everything would be all right.

And on the other hand, every moment that he spent in the common areas without his disguise increased the risk of discovery. The danger had occurred to her only belatedly, after they'd started back up the hall, Kenshin with the makeup washed off and his hair down, dressed in her gender-neutral blue-and-white striped yukata. But he'd seemed to understand the risk. He'd dipped his chin slightly, letting his damp hair fall forward to hide his face, and he'd slipped swift and quiet through the foyer and up the stairs at her side. They had met no one; the dinner party had still been at the table. But it might not even have mattered: in a strange way he had seemed almost invisible. Something in the way he'd moved, in the way he'd held himself. Yuriko had blinked, surprised for a moment, and then dismissed it. Somehow that, too, had seemed natural.

Yuriko reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the foyer to fetch her suitcase from near the door. She'd stayed up there with Kenshin for a while, chatting softly with him while she'd folded the blouse and the blue jumper and made sure he was comfortable. The dinner party had dispersed by now and the downstairs rooms were quiet, save for the theatrically raised voices coming from the television in the lounge. Some historical drama, judging by the language.

She wheeled her suitcase back across to the stairs, then reached down to lift it by the handle.

"Yuriko-san."

"Motoko-san!" Yuriko had startled, straightening up quickly. The dark-haired girl was standing in the dining-room doorway, watching her seriously.

Motoko was a good decade her junior, but Yuriko had never been able to call her '-chan.' There was something too forbidding in those steady gray eyes; all the girls in the house had been a little bit afraid of her since she'd moved in back in May. Only Takamori had been able to get away with calling her 'Motoko dear,' and perhaps that was only because the house manager was too nearsighted to see it.

The gray eyes were level, as usual, but there was no hostility there now. Motoko was waiting.

"What is it?" Yuriko asked, stepping forward toward the doorway.

"Your cousin, Kenshin-san." Motoko's voice was soft, confidential, pitched below the dramatic music that was drifting in from the lounge. "If there's anything she needs..."

"Oh." Motoko, concerned? Yuriko was touched, and a little surprised. She hadn't seen this side of the younger woman before. "Thank you, Motoko-san. She should be fine. But I'll let her know."

Motoko nodded once, then turned back toward the dining room without another word.

Yuriko hefted her suitcase and started up the stairs again as a sound-stage battle-cry emanated from the lounge, accented by an excited squeal in Hana's voice. Motoko would likely be down there until late, studying in the dining room. Doing her cram-school homework. She'd heard the story from Takamori: apparently Motoko had taken a few years off after high school -- unusual in itself -- and then decided to try for university. She had another half a year of cram school before the entrance exams came around again.

And now Motoko was taking an interest in Kenshin. Yuriko reached the second-floor landing and set her suitcase onto its wheels. Not too close an interest, she hoped. This could become a problem.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_furo - Japanese-style bathtub. Usually cylindrical and made of wood. The water is typically reheated and reused a number of times; therefore they are used for soaking, not washing. _

_yukata - article of clothing shaped like a kimono but with narrower sleeves. Often made of cotton, used for sleeping, bath-related wearing, and summer festivals. _


	10. Monday morning

**10. Monday morning **

_Beep -- beep -- beep -- bee--clik_

Yuriko rolled over and switched off her alarm clock, then sat up on the futon and rubbed at her eyes.

Monday morning. Seven o'clock.

She got to her feet and shambled out of her room, down the hall, down the stairs, over to the bathroom. She'd done this a thousand times.

She twisted open the taps and splashed some lukewarm water onto her face, then blinked blearily at her reflection.

Monday morning. Got to get to work. And there was one other thing...

_Kenshin!_

_Had it been--_

No, it couldn't have been a dream. Yuriko was suddenly wide awake. She scrubbed the water off her face and raced back up the hallway.

Seven o'clock already. Five past by now. _Oh god, if he's gone..._

Yuriko clenched her teeth and took the stairs two at a time, fighting off the mental image of an empty room, futon and quilt folded neatly and stacked against the wall and Kenshin nowhere to be found.

She slowed and stopped in front of the last door in the hall, her footsteps quiet but her heart beating loudly in her ears. A random flicker of memory floated through her mind, a memory of Kenshin smiling sweetly at her and saying something about her happiness, and she slid the door open, very carefully.

The room was not empty. Yuriko closed her eyes in relief and let out a silent breath.

Kenshin was curled up on the futon, deeply asleep. He had one yukata-clad arm out over the covers, his hand loosely clutching the comforter. He'd been too tired last night to wait for his hair to dry and so he'd left it loose, a scarlet splash against the off-white sheets. She could see his face clearly.

Asleep, he looked very young. The tension, the anxiety, the exhaustion that had been on his face yesterday had aged him, but those lines were absent now, smoothed away by sleep. Yuriko lingered in the doorway, a smile playing on her lips, listening to his quiet breathing and wondering why she had assumed he was older than she was. He looked like one of the undergraduates. He couldn't be more than twenty-five.

It was because of that hug, wasn't it. The kinesthetic memory of an equal-heighted embrace. If he had been a couple of years older than her, they could have been the same height in middle school. But that memory meant nothing, after all. Kenshin could have been standing on a curb.

It had surprised her that he hadn't been awake already when she'd entered the room. Did that mean something? For a moment she worried that he might be sick, but the color in his cheeks was normal and his breathing was steady and even. Just tired, then. He'd been ready to fall over by the end of last night.

Yuriko smiled fondly. She'd let him sleep, then. She stepped back a pace and carefully slid shut the door, then hurried back to her room to write him a note.

o-o-o

Kenshin woke to daylight streaming brightly through the bare window. He sat up abruptly, unsure for a moment where he was and how he'd gotten there. Then the memories of the previous day slid gently back into his mind and he relaxed.

Back in Tokyo again. Yuriko's apartment house. And... Yuriko. The thought made him giddy. There was something fantastic, something magical there in his memories. She had looked at him with Kaoru's eyes, had smiled at him with Kaoru's smile. He felt like he was home again. Almost.

He slid out from under the quilt and got to his feet, stretching briefly as he moved. He actually felt _good_ this morning. No aching or stiffness, and his head was clear; he felt well-rested for the first time in two months. The futon had been a delight, incredibly comfortable after the long series of nights spent in the open. And he actually felt safe here. It felt familiar, everything from the small but uncluttered space of the room to the pastel green-brown of the walls to the texture of the tatami flooring under his bare feet.

It was mid-morning already. He'd slept much later than usual. Kenshin stepped over to the large glass-paned window and looked out at the day. It was clear again, the sunshine brilliant on the pale stucco of the opposite wing of the building, and he could feel the heat already coming through the glass under his fingertips.

Yuriko's room was two doors down. The awareness was making him giddy again. Giddy, and a little bit afraid. Some of the events of yesterday had been a little too fantastic, a little too magical to be entirely real. He could still see Kaoru's eyes in his head, looking at him out of a new face framed with auburn hair. That face had become familiar in just a few hours' time.

Kenshin suppressed a shiver, turning it into a shrug. There was nothing to be done except the obvious: he should go see if Yuriko was up. He turned away from the window and noticed the slip of paper on top of his neatly-folded blouse and jumper. A note, with his name scrawled in two big kanji on the front. The handwriting was unfamiliar. He unfolded it and read.

_Dear Kenshin,_

_I'm going to work now. You looked so tired, I didn't want to wake you. If you need anything, there's a convini on the first cross-street (turn left, 3 blocks). I'll be home around 6. There are some books in my room if you get bored._

_x x x Yuriko_

_P.S. Don't forget they think you're a girl!_

_P.P.S. DON'T DISAPPEAR!_

So she'd gone. Kenshin lowered his hand. He should have expected it; he'd slept far too late. Well, tomorrow he wouldn't make that mistake.

And this note meant one other thing: Yuriko had come into the room while he was asleep, and it hadn't woken him. More than anything else, this meant it was real. His subconscious recognized her.

Kenshin sighed happily, closing his eyes. The last of the fear had gone. He was home.

Well then, time to get to work, he thought briskly. Yuriko was out, but that didn't mean he should just stand around. He looked over the note again. The last line had surprised him a little. He wasn't about to disappear, not now, not after finding her again. She shouldn't have to worry about that. Kaoru had known for a long time that she needn't be afraid of him going wandering again. But Yuriko....

Kenshin frowned. How much did she really remember? She knew him; that much was obvious. But how much was memory, and how much instinct? She was still an enigma to him.

And he had disappeared in the end, hadn't he.

Kenshin sighed again. He had a lot to make up to her. He had a hundred and sixteen years to make up to her. But the only thing he could do now was to move forward. Yuriko would be home around six, and he'd wait for her here until then. In the meantime...

He slipped out of the yukata and got dressed, buttoning up the blouse a bit more deftly than he had the day before. Buttons were tedious, but he knew he'd get used to them soon enough. He pulled the jumper on over his head, then combed back his hair with his fingers and tied it into its usual ponytail.

Along with the note, Yuriko had left a hand-mirror and a small circular lacquered box, as well as the tube of lipgloss. Kenshin frowned at them in distaste as he settled down cross-legged on the floor, and instead picked up the pair of hairpins that Yuriko had given him. He had to admit they were pretty, the small flowers on their ends enameled a bright blue like the summer sky. But wearing them was still a bit embarrassing.

Well, he had to keep up this charade, at least until Yuriko returned home. He'd talk to her about it tonight, Kenshin decided as he slid the pins into his bangs. And he was not putting on that lipgloss, no matter what Yuriko would say.

Hiding his scar, on the other hand.... Well, he supposed he had no objection there. He popped open the lacquered box and dabbed at the skin-colored cake inside with a finger. He'd done something like this before, in Kyoto, he reflected as he smeared the stuff tentatively onto his cheek. There, it had been to avoid being recognized. Here, the purpose was really much the same. And he supposed this creamy powder would be more discreet than wearing a bandage.

Kenshin examined his reflection in the hand-mirror, dabbed on a little more of the stuff, and raised his eyebrows. Discreet, indeed. And effective.

All right. He'd taken care of Yuriko's first postscript. Kenshin looked at the note again, and sighed.

What in the world was a 'convini?'

Since his arrival in this strange new era, katakana had rapidly become the bane of his existence. His spirits sank now every time he caught a glimpse of the angular phonetic characters, knowing that likely as not he'd have no idea what they meant. He was picking up the foreign words as quickly as he could, but there were just so many of them.

Ah well, he thought, putting the note aside and getting to his feet. Best to stick with what he knew.

o-o-o

Ozaki Motoko dropped her gym bag onto the floor of her room and mopped her face with a hand towel. She was sweating more from the walk back home than from the workout. The day was turning into a real scorcher.

She picked her way through the clutter on the floor and knelt down in front of the low desk below the window to check her day planner. Just time for a cool shower and a sandwich, she thought, chewing her lower lip as she glanced at the clock on her desk. After that she'd have to catch the subway to class. She could finish up the reading for today's lectures on the train.

Motoko got back to her feet, already thinking ahead to the train ride and her mid-day class. A flash of color in the garden below caught her eye as she turned and she paused, brushing aside the lace curtain to look out.

"Kenshin-san," she said, surprised.

The small red-haired figure was crouched on the ground on the far side of the large bath, where the formal garden gave way to an uncontrolled riot of summer vegetation.

"What's she...?" Motoko craned her neck, trying to get a better view around one of the miniature pine trees that bordered the back edge of the bath.

Kenshin was moving, rhythmically, back and forth, scrubbing at something in a large wooden tub.

_Laundry? By hand?_ Motoko's eyes widened in surprise.

Kenshin lifted something big and magenta out of the tub and gave it a quick wringing, then set it aside and returned to scrubbing.

Should she go out, let Kenshin know they had a machine? Motoko glanced again at the clock on her desk, mentally bracketing its face into wedges. She was running out of time, and she couldn't be late to class, not again. And Kenshin had lifted another piece of clothing out of the washtub and was standing now, tipping the wash-water into the weeds.

Motoko shook her head. No use now, and she was out of time. She'd have to talk to Kenshin later.

o-o-o

With this heat, the laundry should be dry in no time at all.

Kenshin stepped lightly up the slope of the tiled roof and into the shade of the single enormous cypress that towered above the end of the east wing of the building. He settled down a yard below the peak, resting briefly on his fingertips as he crossed his legs in front of him. Even in shadow, the gray-green tiles were hot.

He had carried the basket of wet laundry up to the old hotel's third-floor patio and hung it out on the rack to dry. He'd had to run back down and search briefly among the trees on the far side of the garden for a forked stick to lift down the cross-bars of the laundry rack -- chromed steel instead of bamboo, and heavier than they needed to be -- but other than that it had gone smoothly, a chore so familiar that he could have done it in his sleep. From the patio it had been only a short jump up to the roof.

He'd come up here to get some time to himself, to relax a little while the laundry dried. Yuriko was away, after all, and he wasn't particularly eager to spend the day chatting with her housemates without her around. He had managed to avoid them so far this morning, even when he'd had to poke around downstairs in search of a washtub and the laundry powder; fortunately, most of the residents had seemed to be out. He'd caught a glimpse of Takamori dusting the furniture in the lounge, and one of the girls whose name he hadn't caught last night had been making herself a late breakfast in the kitchen beyond the big dining room. He hadn't disturbed either of them, and he'd encountered no one else.

A breeze touched his cheek, then wafted on to stir the top of the cypress and pull a gentle _ting-ling_ from a chime in one of the windows below, just audible above the pulsing whine of the cicadas. Kenshin brushed back the sweat-dampened tendrils of hair that had stuck to his face and then carefully removed the hairpins from his bangs. Yuriko's hairpins, with the pretty little enameled flowers that matched the color of her eyes.

He smiled, holding up the pins between thumb and forefinger, tilting them to catch the light of the sky. They reminded him somehow of the time Kaoru had given him her favorite hair-ribbon. The memory was fresh even now, ten years on. The ribbon hadn't been a gift. It had been a _loan_: a small obligation, a social duty engineered to bring him back to the Kamiya dojo after his fight with Jin'e. A way of telling him that she wanted him to return. The moment when he'd finally understood her intention.... That moment had stayed with him, a cherished memory, untainted by the rest of that day's events.

She had given him her ribbon, but she hadn't forced him to tie up his own hair with it. Pretty as they were, these hairpins were a bit embarrassing. At least she hadn't tried to dress him up in a flowery kimono, Kenshin thought as he slipped the hairpins into one of the patch pockets on the front of his blue jumper. That would have been just too much.

Released from the pins, his bangs had fallen forward over his forehead, returning to their natural unruly state and stirring pleasantly in the breeze. Kenshin sighed contentedly and lay back on the roof tiles, lacing his fingers together behind his head and gazing up at the blue dome of the sky. The warmth in the tiles soaked slowly through the back of his jumper.

Aside from the heat, it was a perfect summer day, clear and brilliant, the sky the color of... the color of only itself. Such a profound blue had no earthly comparison. The deepness of it, the intensity that seemed to pull one upwards and swallow one in its vastness. Kenshin watched as a pair of swallows darted by, high overhead. There was another flying thing in the sky as well, a bit to the left; a small narrow-winged silhouette, pale against the deep blue, tracking its way slowly across the vast dome and leaving a razor-thin line of cloud in its wake.

Kenshin smiled up at it, following its gradual progress across the sky. He had noticed the lines in the sky soon after arriving in this strange new world, but he hadn't given them any conscious thought until last week. The long walk to Kamakura had given him welcome time, not to think as such, but just to contemplate his surroundings. Lost in the pleasant hypnosis of long-distance walking, surrounded after two months in Tokyo by the hills and trees and soft sounds of nature, he'd watched the tracks across the blue dome of the sky, watched as they'd slowly drifted and spread with the high-altitude winds, watched as they were joined from time to time by a new track, parallel, sharp and ruler-straight at first and then spreading in turn as time drifted slowly by.

Around mid-day he'd finally caught sight of the source of the lines, and understood what it was that caused them: flying trains, making their way across the sky, leaving behind their typical plumes of steam. He'd watched them off and on for a few hours more, as he'd passed around the outskirts of Yokohama and continued onward, and realized that he hadn't been quite right. A train was mechanical; he'd learned that from Kaoru's lecture on the train to Yokohama all those years ago. It was moved by steam in some way that he hadn't quite followed, the pressure somehow driving its wheels forward. But wheels would do no good in the sky; a flying train would have to flap its wings or something. And the wings of these craft were fixed.

He'd puzzled over this through miles of countryside until realizing that they must be something slightly different. Rocket kites. That's what they were. Though he'd never seen it, he'd heard that ninja from before the Bakumatsu would sometimes strap themselves to giant kites to spy or infiltrate castles from the air. And he had fragmented memories from Kyoto -- blurred by the heavy doses of painkillers that Megumi had slipped repeatedly into his soup during that time until he'd caught her at it and begged her to stop -- memories of Yahiko's tale of his fight against Henya, the Flighted One, of how the strange swordsman had used the blasts from dynamite to hurl himself into the air, of how he'd caught the shock-driven wind in kite-like wings. The flight of these modern craft was different again, too steady to be driven by explosions. It had been a natural step then from dynamite to rockets. Everyone knew about fireworks rockets; scaled up, they could easily be used to propel such a craft.

The aircraft passed beyond the trees and out of sight, and Kenshin turned his eyes back to the deep blue of the zenith. Not much had changed, really, in a hundred and sixteen years. From steam trains to cars to rocket kites, things were really much the same.

Except for the food. And the laundry detergent.

Kenshin inspected the back of one hand with a frown. It was chapped and red: the laundry powder had stripped away the natural oils, and had threatened to take the skin along with them. It had done a spectacular job on the laundry, though, particularly on his old hakama which was now almost too dazzling to look at. He'd never seen clothes get so white so quickly. It was unnerving, almost. Unnatural. He wouldn't have thought it possible.

He'd probably used too much detergent. Yes, that must be it; the stuff was awfully concentrated. Next time he'd experiment with using less. Kenshin folded his chapped hands behind his head again and closed his eyes with a sigh. The roof tiles were warm beneath his back, the _chee-erup_ of the cicadas loud in his ears. It was a perfect summer day, and the laundry would be dry soon.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_kanji - non-phonetic Japanese characters; adopted from Chinese long long ago. _

_katakana - one of the two phonetic Japanese alphabets (the other is hiragana); usually used for foreign words. _

_convini - convenience store (actually spelt 'combini,' but that would have been too obscure) _


	11. Settling in

**11. Settling in **

Fukuyama Rika hadn't been looking for Yuriko. It had just been chance, coming back from an errand to the admissions office, that she'd passed by the copier room and spotted her senior coworker.

Yuriko was standing near the window, gazing out at the trees with her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyes distant and a soft smile on her face. One hand was laid gently on the auburn hair beside her left cheek, the other cupped around her left elbow.

The photocopier was silent, a red light blinking on its control panel.

Rika stood in the doorway and raised her eyebrows. Yuriko had been acting... _differently_ this morning. She was usually in a cheerful mood after the weekend trips she took once or twice a month to see her parents, but when she'd come in this morning to their shared office she'd seemed almost bubbly.

Yuriko was never bubbly. Especially not during crunch time, less than a week before the start of final exams. But she _had_ been down to visit her parents, and she _had_ mentioned something last month about her mother arranging some marriage meetings....

Rika made a guess. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Kenshin." Yuriko's voice was distant, dreamy.

Rika grinned, leaning a jaunty elbow against the doorframe. She'd guessed right. That girl was in love.

Yuriko was still standing by the window, still gazing out with that dreamy expression on her face. The red light was still blinking on the front of the photocopier.

"You're out of paper," Rika commented.

"Hm? Oh!" Yuriko looked up abruptly, as if realizing for the first time that she wasn't alone.

She was blushing, she was actually blushing! Rika stifled a chortle as Yuriko rushed to the copier, yanked out the paper tray, cast about for a moment, and then ran back across the room to the supply cabinet.

"Come find us when you're done," Rika continued through a knowing grin as Yuriko pulled open the cabinet and hefted a ream of paper. "We'll go to lunch." Rika turned as if to leave but lingered in the doorway, one hand on the frame, looking back over her shoulder as Yuriko tore off the ream wrapper and tossed it into the recycling bin. "And you can tell us all about Kenshin," she added.

Rika stayed just long enough to see Yuriko's ears turn crimson. Then she rushed up the hall, trying to get out of earshot before she lost control and laughed out loud.

o-o-o

It was hot. Too hot.

Kenshin stirred and opened his eyes a crack, then squeezed them shut against the blinding stab of brightness.

Sunlight. He was lying in sunlight, and it was too hot.

He rolled weakly onto one side and opened his eyes again. The gray-green roof tiles were swimming in front of him, the sunlight a physical weight on his body. He was soaked with sweat, his head was pounding and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. How long had he been up here?

He had to get out of the sun. Kenshin pushed himself up onto hands and knees, searing his palms on the tiles, and half-scrambled, half-slid down towards the edge of the roof. He must have fallen asleep up here, relaxing in the shade of the cypress beneath that beautiful sky. But time had moved on and with it the sun, shifting the shade off toward the east edge of the roof and leaving him baking in the direct brilliance of noon. Hot as it had been this morning, it was scorching now.

Kenshin grabbed at the rain gutter to stop himself plunging headlong off the roof, burning his hands on the green metal and making the world swing sickeningly around him. This was definitely not good. He steadied himself for a moment, then slid his legs over the edge and dropped onto the patio below.

A dizzying blur of motion and he was on his hands and knees again, still struggling to catch his breath in this too-thick air. He had to get out of the sun _now_. He pushed himself to his feet and staggered into the black shade cast onto the wall by the roof's shallow overhang. His legs were cramping, his head still pounding mercilessly. He leaned his back against the relative coolness of the wall and squeezed his eyes shut again.

A minute passed, maybe two. It was cooler here in the shade. Kenshin could feel the breeze again now, pulling heat from his damp clothing. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the pebbly texture of the stuccoed wall behind him, concentrating on getting his breathing under control.

It was cooler here. His blouse was sticking wetly to his back under the thicker fabric of the jumper. Kenshin opened his eyes and shifted a little, straightening up experimentally. The dizziness had gone away and his head felt a little better now, but his throat was dry. He should get downstairs, get something cool to drink.

He hoped he hadn't been lying in the sun long enough to burn. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and leaned carefully away from the wall to squint up at the sky. Two hours, give or take? And he would have been in the shade of the cypress for most of that time. It shouldn't be too bad, then.

The breeze ruffled his bangs and he glanced across at the laundry rack. The clothes were fluttering lightly about the edges, their colors vivid in the sunlight. Probably dry already, what with this heat. He might as well take them down now, if he was going back inside anyway. Kenshin took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall.

o-o-o

"So, this Kenshin had better be something pretty special," Rika said, her feathered hair swinging forward as she set her tray down on the formica tabletop.

Yuriko winced, feeling self-conscious. Rika had kept quiet on the walk across the quad to the cafeteria, had stayed mercifully silent while the three of them had waited in line at the lunch counter, had said not a word about it while they'd paid the cashier. But Yuriko clearly wasn't going to escape this conversation. And from the way Hitomi was looking at her with that happy light in her eyes, Rika must have passed on the news even while Yuriko was finishing her photocopying. At least it would keep Hitomi from going on and on about North Korea and the abductees. Since the younger woman had joined the administrative staff, Yuriko had scarcely needed to open a newspaper.

She wasn't ready for this conversation. She had only found Kenshin again yesterday, and it was all still too new, still too fresh. He had been all she could think about, all morning long. The thought of him made her feel like squealing with joy and jumping up and down.

It was her own fault that Rika had found out. She shouldn't have been mooning around in the copier room. It was unprofessional, and she'd set herself up for a world of teasing. Yuriko kicked herself mentally for her stupidity as she set down her orange plastic lunch tray and slid onto the chair, only half-listening to Rika's words.

"I just can't believe you're in love with some guy from a marriage meeting," Rika was saying, tearing the wrapper off her chopsticks. "You know the guys who sign up for those things are either some kind of creeps who you wouldn't want to shake hands with, or else geeks who're too shy to talk to a girl themselves. I still can't believe you let your mom talk you into it." She shot Yuriko a disparaging look and snapped her chopsticks apart.

Her mom. _Oh._ Yuriko looked up, lips slightly parted with the realization. Her folks didn't know about Kenshin yet. She'd have to call them, tell them the news. Tell them Kenshin was back. A slow smile spread across her face. She'd do it right after lunch.

Her folks were going to be thrilled. Maybe she'd go down to Kamakura again next weekend, take Kenshin to see them. Yuriko's smile widened as she imagined her parents' reactions, imagined the happy reunion. They must know Kenshin from before, right? She and Kenshin had been so close, back then....

Back then...

Yuriko's smile faded, her forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. Back when? She still couldn't quite remember. Maybe her parents could remind her when exactly that had been.

"Yuriko?" Rika was looking at her, eyebrows arched and an expectant look on her face.

"What?" Yuriko startled. "Sorry, what?" Rika had been saying something, hadn't she.

"I said," Rika repeated, "I can't believe you're in love with some loser from a marriage meeting."

"We're just friends!" Yuriko yelped defensively.

It wasn't as if Kenshin were her boyfriend or anything. If he were, she'd feel all giggly and awkward around him, wouldn't she? But she didn't feel like that. With Kenshin, she felt... close. Comfortable. As if... as if he were almost family.

And anyway, Yuriko thought, she'd never had a boyfriend. That was one of the invariant features of her life. Besides, this morning Kenshin had looked so young, like one of the undergraduates. She could be ten years older than him.

Couldn't she?

If she could just remember when they'd met....

"And Kenshin's not from a marriage meeting," she added, as the rest of Rika's comment finally registered. A marriage meeting indeed. How had Rika gotten _that_ ridiculous idea? She'd known Kenshin since...

Rika was looking confused. "But I thought that was what you went down for."

"Oh. Well, yeah." Yuriko had all but forgotten about the marriage meeting. It had only been the day before yesterday. She'd spent all of the previous week fretting about it, had spent Saturday morning worrying about her hair and her makeup and the stunning antique kimono that her mom had cinched her into, had spent Saturday evening and most of Sunday under a cloud of guilt over the fact that she'd found yet another man totally uninteresting.

But she needn't worry about that now. Since she'd seen Kenshin, the marriage meeting had become the farthest thing from her mind. Who needed a boyfriend when she had Kenshin?

A delightful feeling of freedom welled up inside her, because she wasn't alone any more. With Kenshin, she'd never have to worry about being alone again.

She smiled happily at Rika, because the marriage meeting didn't matter any more. "Yeah," she said, "but that guy was nobody. Kenshin I just ran into. At my cousin's place, actually."

"Oh!" Rika raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that's all right then." She smiled, looking relieved. As if her worldview had been confirmed.

"Was it love at first sight, then?" Hitomi had said nothing up to now. She was smiling shyly from behind her glasses.

"What? No! We're just friends, all right?" Yuriko's tone was defensive again. How could it be love at first sight, when she'd known Kenshin forever? The very thought was making her cheeks warm. "I know Kenshin from way back," she explained. "We just hadn't seen each other in ages."

It wasn't like that, she told herself. She'd never had a boyfriend. Kenshin was different. Kenshin felt like family.

o-o-o

"Kenshin dear!" Takamori exclaimed, bustling over towards him across the foyer. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to!"

Kenshin sighed, putting a resigned smile on his face as he stepped across the threshold. He had hoped to make it upstairs without encountering anyone.

The laundry had indeed been dry; two hours of direct sunlight and that intense heat had left it crisp and fresh and smelling faintly of summer breezes. He'd taken it all down and stacked it in the large wicker laundry basket that he'd found in the store-room tucked between the bathroom and the lounge, standing when he could in the slivers of shade on the north side of the hanging clothes. Nevertheless, by the time he'd finished and made his way back down the narrow metal staircase from the third floor patio, his head had been throbbing again. It was a relief to step through the back door into the dim coolness of the foyer. In here it seemed almost dark to Kenshin's sun-blasted eyes.

"Were you out there all this time?" Takamori was saying, reaching past him to shut the glass-paned door. "Look at you, you're simply drenched with sweat!" She plucked the laundry basket out of his hands.

"Oro--" What was she doing? He was going to fold that....

"Come on into the kitchen," Takamori continued, setting the basket down beside the back door and catching Kenshin firmly by the hand. "Let's get you something to drink, eh? Oh, and here." She pulled a large white handkerchief out of one of the pockets in her apron and thrust it into Kenshin's other hand.

"I'm all ri-"

"You know they say it's record heat out there," Takamori went on as she led him around the stairs and through the dining room. "You should be careful spending too much time out in that. I was telling the other girls this morning: keep cool, take it easy; you don't want to get heatstroke or anything." Takamori gave Kenshin a pointed look through her thick glasses and escorted him through the doorway into the kitchen.

The kitchen was huge. Big enough to cook for an army -- or for a hotel full of guests. Big enough to do kata in, if the ceiling had been a few feet higher. It would have been bright if Kenshin's eyes hadn't still been adjusting.

"I'm all right, that I am," he said, mostly to himself. It was cool here in the kitchen, almost cold with the dampness on his skin. The large white floor tiles were hard and frigid under the soles of his stockinged feet. He mopped his forehead distractedly with Takamori's handkerchief.

Takamori had released his hand to rummage in one of the large thick-walled white cabinets that stood between the kitchen door and one end of the tiled countertop. She emerged with a pitcher of transparent brown liquid in one hand.

"There we go," she said, reaching down a tall glass from one of the cupboards above the countertop and filling it to the top. "Mugicha. Ice cold." She smiled motheringly at Kenshin and handed him the glass.

"Thank you," he said, his self-consciousness losing to thirst. Mugicha, barley tea, that classic summer drink. He took a big swallow of the liquid and nearly choked as it hit his stomach like a lump of frozen lead. Ice cold, indeed. He closed his eyes briefly, fighting the sudden surge of nausea.

"Oh, Kenshin dear, don't drink it too fast, eh? Cold drinks, hot day, you want to be careful, you know." Takamori was already bustling about, taking a covered bowl out of the thick-walled cabinet and setting it on the counter near the sink.

"Y- Yes," he said. "Sorry. Thank you, Takamori-dono." How had she gotten it so cold? Kenshin eyed the drink suspiciously, then took a cautious sip. Aside from the temperature, it was ordinary mugicha, its light bitterness refreshing. He took another sip. His head was starting to feel better already.

It was colder than well water. She must have chilled it with ice. Surprising. Maybe ice had gotten cheaper.

"By the way, Kenshin dear, have you eaten?" Takamori had opened up a cupboard and was taking dishes down one at a time, the ceramic clinking as she set them onto the tile counter. "I was just going to make some onigiri. And there's leftover curry-rice in the fridge; I could heat some up for you." She gave him a motherly smile from behind her thick glasses. "You modern girls all love that stuff. Here, it'll just take a couple of minutes." She opened the cabinet -- fridge? -- again and reached inside.

"Wait--"

Takamori looked up, one hand still on the fridge door.

Kenshin gave her a shy little smile. "Onigiri sound much better, that they do, Takamori-dono."

Takamori grinned delightedly and closed the fridge. "That's my girl!" she exclaimed, and reached out to give Kenshin's hair a vigorous ruffle.

Kenshin ducked his head, letting his bangs hide the sudden shock on his face. Takamori had just... ruffled... his hair...?

"Onigiri are much better for you anyway," Takamori was saying, scooping cooked rice from another large bowl on the counter and piling it onto a cutting board. "These modern girls, with their curry and their convini food and their coffee. They don't eat enough rice, and they don't eat enough vegetables. How can that possibly be good for them, I ask you." She gestured at Kenshin with the rice paddle, emphasizing her point.

Kenshin raised his eyebrows. She'd said that word, the one from Yuriko's note. "Ah... Takamori-dono?" Kenshin ventured. "If you don't mind my asking, what's a convini?"

Takamori stopped and turned to look at him, surprise written on her face. "What's a convini?" she echoed. "You really are from the country. Convini. Convenience store. They're everywhere."

"Ah." Kenshin did, in fact, know about convenience stores; he'd just never heard the proper name before. Aside from the noodle shop where he'd been working as a dish-washer three or four nights a week, convenience stores had been his primary source of food for the past two months -- with no access to cooking facilities, it was that or raw vegetables from the markets. And he agreed whole-heartedly with Takamori's condemnation.

o-o-o

Kenshin rolled up his sleeves and turned on the tap, letting warm water run over the stack of dishes in the kitchen sink. Takamori had invited him into the dining room to eat, a big plate of onigiri in her hand. The filled rice-balls had been blessedly familiar, and he'd been very hungry: he'd had to stop himself two or three times to avoid wolfing them down. After last night's unpalatable curry-rice, it was so nice to have some real food. And he'd skipped breakfast, too -- he hadn't felt comfortable foraging in the kitchen without knowing what belonged to whom. He certainly didn't want to cause trouble for Yuriko by eating her housemates' food.

Afterwards, Takamori had started back towards the kitchen and Kenshin had followed, intent on doing the washing-up. Takamori had seemed a little surprised, but she'd showed him the soap and the dish-sponge and let him get on with it while she tidied away the leftover rice and put the bowl of pickled vegetables back into the fridge.

Anyway, why shouldn't he wash the dishes? Takamori had made him onigiri.

"Takamori-dono?" Kenshin started as he scrubbed rice-starch off the cutting board. Her presence no longer made him fidget; she had been kind to him, and she hadn't asked him any probing questions during lunch as he'd feared she might. And it was rather nice to have someone to talk to again.

"Yes, Kenshin dear?" Takamori called back as she pulled in a chair from the dining room.

"Do your tenants cook dinner together every night?" he asked her.

"Eh? No, no, that's just on Sundays." She settled down on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. "My girls all have different schedules, you know, and sometimes they go out with friends and whatnot. So they mostly just fend for themselves on the weeknights."

Kenshin nodded, rinsing the board and setting it on the drying rack beside the sink. "Do you think..." he began.

"Hmm?"

He looked back at Takamori over his shoulder. "Do you think Kaoru would mind if I cooked dinner for her tonight?"

"Kaoru?" She looked at him blankly.

That had been a mistake. "Sorry," said Kenshin softly, ducking his head reflexively. "I meant Yuriko."

Takamori brightened. "Ah, of course. Yuriko. No, I don't think she'd mind at all. In fact I think she'd be delighted." She gave him an enthusiastic smile, eyes crinkling up behind her thick glasses. "The girls each have their own shelf in one of the fridges. They're labeled with their names. Just grab anything of hers out of there."

"Mm." Kenshin nodded.

"Though Yuriko probably needs to go shopping, the dear girl. She was away at her parents' this weekend, you know," Takamori explained, getting up and wandering over to the second fridge. "So she might not have anything fresh." She pulled opened the door and peered inside. "Mm. Nope."

She shut the door again and turned back to Kenshin. "There're a couple of nice grocery stores over in Yanaka Ginza -- that's the main shopping street; it's just two blocks long, the Ginza part is kind of a joke, you know. You just go down the street out front here and then take a right; it's maybe fifteen minutes' walk. Oh, and don't worry about rice, eh? We've got tons of that." She gave Kenshin another smile. "I'm always trying to get the girls to eat more rice and less bread, you know?"

"Ah-- yes." Kenshin blinked, surprised and rather touched. Not only had Takamori fed him onigiri, she'd effectively offered him an unlimited supply of rice. Such kindness would not go unappreciated. "Thank you, Takamori-dono," he said, and turned back to the dishes, smiling to himself.

This was good. This was perfect. He'd just finish up the dishes, put away the laundry and tidy up a little, and then he'd go out and do the grocery shopping.

Yuriko would be back around six. He needed to have dinner ready for her by then. An hour for the cooking, an hour for the shopping; that meant he had almost three solid hours now to put away the laundry and do some cleaning. Kenshin's smile widened, and he began to hum softly to himself as he rinsed the dishes.

It was almost just like home.

o-o-o

Almost just like home. Kenshin strolled back down the street, a contented smile on his face and a pair of laden plastic shopping bags clutched in each hand. His sword moved slightly against his left hip with every step, and his hakama swished around his ankles in its familiar way.

He'd felt uncomfortable going shopping without the sakabatou. Doing laundry in the back garden was one thing -- he was close to the house and could run in and fetch it if the need arose -- but going out to the market was quite another. It had been a long time since he'd needed to defend himself. But the need still arose to protect others, even two decades into the Meiji era.

It hadn't arisen yet in the year two thousand and four. But that didn't mean it wouldn't. And Kenshin needed to be able to protect the people.

Of course, he couldn't carry his sakabatou properly while wearing that blue jumper, at least not if he wanted his hands free for shopping. And so, once he'd finished with the cleaning he'd put on his freshly-washed kimono and hakama, still faintly warm from the sunshine, and slid the sword into its usual spot in the hakama's waistband.

This of course had presented another problem: how to leave the house without being seen. But Kenshin had thought this through, and had carried his zori up to his room at the end of the second-floor hallway before changing his clothes. There was a thick iron drainpipe right outside the window, running down from the corner of the roof just beside the edge of the third floor patio. A part of his mind had taken note of it when he'd been up there hanging out the laundry and had filed the information away for future reference. It had been easy enough to swing out from the window, slip on his zori one-handed, and scramble up the drainpipe to the patio. From there, he'd been able to come down the narrow metal stairs on the windowless end of the building and then around to the street unseen, the overgrown hydrangeas that had taken over the east side of the old hotel's grounds completely hiding him from view of the house.

He'd saved up some money from his dish-washing job at the noodle shop, knowing that he'd be leaving Tokyo eventually to seek out more of his kinfolk. Now, it had come in handy: he'd been able to buy fish, tofu, greens, miso, everything he needed to cook a nice dinner. And the grocery money would go a lot farther with a stove at his disposal. Even at the convenience stores, prepared food was expensive.

Kenshin passed under the archway at the end of Yanaka Ginza and turned left up the street. He wondered if Yuriko had a vegetable garden. If she did, it would make things even easier. He hadn't noticed one when he'd been out back doing the laundry, but there was a lot of space back there between the formal garden and the trees, all overgrown with vines and weeds and tall grass. He'd have to take a closer look when he got back.

o-o-o

Takamori Chiyoko leaned on her broom and peered down at the smooth wooden flooring of the veranda, her brow furrowing in puzzlement under her red-and-white checked headscarf.

"That's odd," she muttered to herself, her voice lost under the mellow strains of Glenn Miller drifting from the old tape deck that she'd propped just outside the kitchen door. She got down onto one knee and scrutinized the floor, brushing a finger along the old wood. It came away clean.

"I could've sworn..."

Takamori climbed back to her feet, shaking her head and brushing one hand absently on her pink apron. "Huh," she said. "Must've done it already."

She shrugged dismissively and propped the broom against the doorframe. If she'd swept the veranda already, then she was done for today. She settled down on the old wooden bench beside the kitchen door, crossed her legs with a happy sigh and pulled out a cigarette.

The tape deck played on, filling the afternoon air with that classic big band sound.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_mugicha - barley tea, just like it says on the package. _

_Ginza - an up-market area of Tokyo and popular weekend destination, home of many department stores, boutiques and restaurants. Modern Ginza began in the 5th year of Meiji when the district was rebuilt after a fire with European-style brick buildings and a shopping promenade. _


	12. Being domestic

**12. Being domestic **

Yuriko stood on the packed subway train, clinging to one of the overhead plastic rings with one hand and vigorously waving her folding fan with the other. She'd spent the whole afternoon duplicating exam papers. Finals started on Friday; it was going to be a busy week. She hadn't wasted any more time daydreaming, either. Instead, she'd been kicking herself for forgetting her phone.

She had intended to call her parents after lunch, to tell them about Kenshin, but her phone hadn't been in her shoulder-bag. She'd looked twice, emptying everything out the second time and laying it all carefully on her desk. No cellphone. She might have left it in her room back at the apartment house; she'd have to check when she got home. But she was afraid she'd lost it on the way back from Kamakura. _Damn._

The packed train glided in to another station and the doors swished open. The crowd shifted around her, jostling her with elbows and briefcases, but by the time the doors clunked closed again the pressure had eased a bit. Yuriko blew out a breath and fanned herself again. It was swelteringly hot, easily the hottest day yet in this torrid July. She wanted nothing more than to get home and take a cold shower.

Maybe it would be cooler down at the beach in Kamakura. Maybe she should go down again next weekend after all, take Kenshin to see her folks. She smiled as the train decelerated around a curve, imagining her mom's reaction when she finally brought home her 'nice young man.'

Yes, she'd do it, Yuriko decided. If she couldn't find her phone, maybe she'd just surprise them. Her folks were always around on the weekends, always ready for a visit. And Kenshin wouldn't have any commitments.

Wouldn't he?

Yuriko frowned, unsure again. She'd dragged him back to Tokyo with her without a thought. For all she knew, he could be missing work, or school, or....

She had no idea what his commitments were.

The train was slowing again, pulling in to her station. She'd have to talk to Kenshin about it tonight. She'd have to make sure that what she was doing was all right. Yuriko folded her fan shut and dropped it into her shoulder-bag as the train jerked to a halt.

o-o-o

He was waiting for her, sitting on the front steps beneath the giant cherry trees. Yuriko spotted his red hair from half way down the street, and the sight brought an unexpected surge of relief. There was a part of her that still wasn't convinced that this was real.

"Welcome back, Kaoru!" Kenshin had jumped up as she reached the top of the street, had skipped down to meet her at the foot of the steps with a happy smile on his face. His hair was down again, enveloping his back and shoulders over the blue jumper.

"I'm home," Yuriko replied automatically.

_Home..._

Yuriko blinked, pausing half way up the steps. The word had resonated strangely as she'd said it. Was this home? The apartment house had always felt temporary to her. Four years in Tokyo, and she still hadn't gotten around to finding a real home, a permanent place to live. After spending six years in one temp job after another in Kamakura she'd been willing to take anything without a termination date, even if it had meant moving away to the city. But she still hadn't really internalized the fact that permanent meant permanent.

This apartment house wasn't really home. Home was her parents' house in Kamakura, where she'd grown up.

Or was it somewhere else?

There was another memory there, just a hint: a flicker of an old-fashioned veranda, a fleeting image of a large, bare, high-ceilinged room with a smooth wooden floor--

"Dinner is ready, in case you're hungry, Kaoru."

Yuriko looked up, surprised, the memory flitting away. "You made dinner?"

He stopped in the act of pulling open the heavy front door, his eyes flickering to alarm. "Yes, that I did. Is it a problem? Did you have some other plans? I can--"

"No, no! That's great!" Yuriko hurriedly waved away his concern. Of course he'd made dinner. Why had she been surprised? Kenshin usually did the cooking. "I'm starving, anyway," she added. "The sooner we eat, the better." She kicked off her shoes and stepped up into the foyer.

Kenshin grinned at her, any concern long gone from his face. "Right! I'll go set the table, that I will, Kaoru." And he turned briskly away towards the dining room.

Yuriko caught her breath. He'd looked so happy, just then. It made her want to laugh out loud. It made her want to catch him in her arms and spin him around. With Kenshin here, this really did feel like home.

Yuriko turned with a little skip of joy and hurried down the opposite hall toward the bathroom, grinning all over her face.

It was only there, looking absently into the mirror as she washed her hands, that her earlier thought struck her as odd.

_Kenshin usually did the cooking?_ How could that be, if she'd only just found him again?

It had to be a memory from before, hadn't it? From when they'd known each other. From when they'd been so close.

Yes, she decided, that must be it; and it was connected somehow in her mind to that other memory of home, the memory of that old-fashioned house. A relative's? Had they gone visiting there some time when she was a kid, some summer vacation back in school? Is that where she'd met Kenshin?

Yuriko wrinkled her forehead, staring hard at the clear blue eyes of her reflection.

Why couldn't she remember? If she knew Kenshin so well, why couldn't she remember? As fond of him as she was, surely she would have treasured her memories of their time together. Instead it was just these odd flashes, like the feeling of an embrace, and that old house, and Kyoto yesterday. Odd flashes, in a dark sea of nothingness.

Dammit, why couldn't she remember?

"Oh, hey, Yuriko-san."

Yuriko jumped.

"Hana-chan," she said, embarrassed at being so startled. "How are you doing?" She snatched up her towel from its peg and dried her hands hastily.

"I'm melted. It's too hot out there." Hana turned on the taps and splashed water on her face. "Hey, guess what," she continued, as she groped for her towel, face dripping. "I got a job!" She buried her face in the towel, scrubbing briefly, then looked back up at Yuriko. "It's just selling sno-cones, over in Ueno Park. But it lasts 'til the end of summer, and then I've got a couple of weeks free before classes start. Isn't that perfect?" Hana raised her eyebrows animatedly, grinning gleefully at Yuriko.

"Yeah, that's great." Yuriko hung up her towel and picked up her shoulder-bag, returning Hana's smile briefly. She needed to talk to Kenshin. It bothered her that she couldn't remember how she'd met him.

Hana's expression had turned speculative. "By the way, I noticed Kenshin-san setting the table. Did you cook already?"

"Hmm? No, Kenshin did." And he was no doubt wondering what was taking her so long.

Hana was still looking at her. "Mind if I join you? There's some leftover curry-rice I could heat up..."

_Damn_, Yuriko thought again. She really needed to talk to Kenshin, alone. But Hana shouldn't be snubbed because of that.

"Of course," she said. "And I don't know what Kenshin cooked, but if you want some, I'm sure he's-- I'm sure she's made plenty." Yuriko kicked herself mentally. She'd almost blown it there. At least Kenshin had followed her instructions and was wearing the blue jumper again, with his hair neatly combed and his bangs pinned up. He looked disconcertingly fabulous in it, too. She'd have to see what she could find him for tomorrow.

o-o-o

"So, Yuriko-san, do you think Kenshin-san will want to join our cooking club? Me and Midori-chan could learn some good recipes from her."

Yuriko raised her eyebrows at Hana and took a sip of her tea. They were sitting on cushions in the tatami-floored lounge, the low table between them bearing a steaming teapot and three little porcelain cups. Kenshin had brought them in here after dinner, leaving them with a cheery smile and a promise to return. Then he'd disappeared to do the dishes.

"Why don't you ask her?" Yuriko replied, setting her cup carefully back onto the little table. In spite of her initial misgivings, she'd thoroughly enjoyed having Hana join them for dinner. The younger woman's presence had shifted the conversation, preventing her from talking seriously with Kenshin, but she hadn't really minded. She'd decided that the dinner table wasn't really the appropriate place to discuss such awkward matters, and more importantly, Kenshin had seemed delighted at Hana's presence. He had offered her dinner, just as Yuriko had expected, flitting back into the kitchen for an extra set of dishes.

There had been plenty of miso soup -- real miso soup, with tofu and wakame and vegetables, not the instant stuff Yuriko bought at the convenience store for quick weekend lunches -- but Kenshin had only grilled up two fish. He'd immediately offered his own to Hana, but she'd refused to take it all, and after much polite arguing they'd ended up splitting them three ways. Hana had been impressed. Yuriko had smiled, then. Of course she'd been impressed. Kenshin was a very good cook.

"Okay, sure," Hana was saying now. "I _will_ ask her. I just..." Her voice softened a little, her face turning thoughtful. "I didn't know how long Kenshin-san was going to be staying." She was quiet for a little while, toying with her cup, watching the pale green-brown liquid move as she turned it between her fingers.

Yuriko watched the younger woman. This quiet was uncharacteristic. With that thoughtful expression on her small round face and her almost boyishly short hair, she looked for a moment like a serious child.

"And I didn't want to bother her again," Hana added, looking up with a wry grin and wrinkling her nose. "Not after what Motoko-san said last night."

"Ah." Yuriko smiled sympathetically. Motoko had been pretty intimidating. And Kenshin had probably seemed kind of fragile last night, too. To Yuriko, he certainly had. Fortunately, whatever shock or exhaustion had been dragging him down the previous evening had completely disappeared by tonight.

"I wouldn't worry," Yuriko added. "Kenshin's fine."

"Super!" Hana exclaimed with a grin. "I'll ask her tonight. --Whoa!" Hana had gestured with her teacup, sloshing a bit of warm liquid out onto the thigh of her trousers. She set the cup down hurriedly and rubbed at the wet spot with her palm.

Yuriko smiled and took another sip of her tea. So much for the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

"Man, I hope this doesn't stain," Hana was saying. "Good thing these jeans are pretty dark." She tsked to herself, inspecting the fabric.

Still, Yuriko thought, this was nice, this quiet tea after dinner. She really should do this more often. It gave one time to think, time to talk. Time to talk seriously, about things that mattered, not just the usual smalltalk chatter of the day. She only wished she could be talking with Kenshin.

"Hey, Yuriko-san?" Hana was looking across at her again, her eyes curious. "I was wondering.... Why does she call you Kaoru?"

"What?" Yuriko looked back up at Hana like the girl was crazy. "Because that's my..."

Hana tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows.

"...name," Yuriko finished uncertainly.

Her name. _Kaoru._

_What?_

Yuriko sat back, a puzzled frown twitching at her eyebrows. Hana was right; Kenshin did call her Kaoru. And she hadn't even noticed it until now. Weird. Very weird.

Hana was still watching her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to go on. Yuriko cleared her throat.

"My nickname," she amended. It must be something like that, mustn't it? "From when we were kids together." Yeah, Yuriko thought; it must be something like that for it to feel so natural. So natural that she hadn't even noticed Kenshin doing it.

"Weird nickname," Hana replied, putting her teacup down again. "I'd've called you Yuri or Yu-chan or something like that."

_Yu-chan?_ Yuriko grimaced in disgust. Heaven forbid anyone would call her _Yu-chan_.

Hana was smiling a half-smile. "Yu-chan," she said. "I like that." She grinned suddenly and picked up the teapot with a flourish, straightening her back and tilting her head coquettishly, miming the holding back of a dangling kimono sleeve with her other hand. "Some more tea, Yu-chan?"

o-o-o

Kenshin rinsed the last of the plates and set it on the dish-rack to drain, then lifted the heavy miso pot into the sink. It had been so good to cook again, so good to have a normal dinner with Yuriko. After that, even dish-washing was enjoyable. He hummed cheerfully to himself as he ran water into the pot, then lifted it awkwardly and swirled it around. The counter here was just a bit too high for comfort, and he was beginning to feel the strain just below his shoulderblades. Maybe tomorrow he'd try to find something to stand on, like he had at the noodle shop in Shinjuku.

He poured out the water and plonked the pot back down into the sink. Someone was coming through the dining room, toward the kitchen. Kenshin picked up the dish-sponge and looked over his shoulder, smiling calmly as Motoko entered the room, her eyes down and a preoccupied look on her face.

"Good evening, Motoko-dono," he said.

She startled at his voice, as if she hadn't expected anyone to be here. "Kenshin-san! What are-- Oh." Motoko shook off the surprise, smiled faintly at him, and then continued towards him. "You had dinner?" she said. She crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the counter, then peered into the sink with a slight frown.

"Mm-hmm." Kenshin nodded, smiling, holding the dish sponge in a cupped hand over the sink. "With Kaoru and Hana-dono, that I did."

Motoko blinked and looked at him strangely, her thin black eyebrows quirked.

"I-- I mean Yuriko, that I do," Kenshin added hastily, kicking himself. He should have remembered, after his conversation with Takamori at lunch. It was a difficult habit to get into. "I'm sorry there's nothing left, that I am," he continued with an apologetic smile. "If you would like--"

"No, no," Motoko interrupted his half-formed offer. "I can cook for myself." She pulled open the fridge and lifted out a white plastic grocery sack. "You shouldn't worry about me, that's for sure," she added. She pulled something out of the bag -- a large bun or small loaf of bread -- and set it on a plate which she placed inside one of the contraptions on the counter. She clicked the door closed and pressed some buttons on the front of the box. It whirred into life.

Kenshin squirted a little more dish-soap onto the sponge and leaned forward to scrub the pot. He'd best get this washing finished up, so that Motoko could make use of the kitchen. She had wandered back over and leaned her elbows on the counter next to him again, watching him work, her gray eyes level under her straight-cut bangs.

Kenshin tried not to squirm. She was making him uncomfortable, watching him like this, and he had no idea why.

"So," Motoko said. "Where are they? Yuriko-san and Hana-san?"

"Oh! I should have mentioned it before, that I should've," Kenshin replied with a start, smiling up at Motoko again. She was a bit shorter than Yuriko, but still a good three inches taller than him. "They're in the lounge with tea, that they are. Please, you're welcome to join them. There's a third cup in there already. I'll bring a fresh pot once I've finished this, that I will." He indicated the miso pot and the small cluster of cups, bowls and chopsticks still unwashed on the other side of the sink.

But Motoko was frowning. "They went for tea and left you to do the dishes?"

Kenshin shrugged, turning back to the sink. "Sure. There's nothing wrong with that, that there isn't."

"Nothing wrong with it? I bet you cooked, too."

Kenshin frowned at her tone; Motoko sounded almost angry. But why should that be? He'd bought his own groceries; it wasn't as if he'd used her food by mistake.

"Yes?" he ventured in reply. Was it that she hadn't gotten any, and had to eat a bun for her dinner instead?

The box on the counter emitted a long high tone, and Motoko reached over to pop the door open. A strong meaty aroma wafted out.

A filled bun, at least, Kenshin thought. It wouldn't be so bad. He scrubbed at the pot a little more, cleaning off the faint foamy ring that the surface of the soup had left around the inside.

"I saw you doing laundry earlier today," Motoko added as she slid out the plate and set it on the counter in front of her. The bun was steaming. "By hand, out in the garden." Her voice was casual, almost off-handed, but there was a kind of accusatory undertone in it. "You don't have to do that here, you know."

"Oro?" What was she getting at? Of course he'd done the laundry; there was nothing wrong with that, either. What could that possibly have to do with anything?

Motoko looked at him for a long moment, her gray eyes searching his face. "Just know that you don't have to, that's all," she said at last, and turned away, taking her plate with her into the dining room.

Kenshin let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. That last searching look had made him feel more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. He swished the dish-sponge around the pot again and then turned on the tap, watching the water thoughtfully as he rinsed away the suds.

It had felt just a bit too much like his old days as a rurouni, when he'd lived in constant fear of being recognized. That caution had saved his life more than once, and it had stayed with him, dormant in the back of his mind, even after the long string of challenges had finally ended and he'd been able to live peacefully with Kaoru at last.

But there was no way Motoko could recognize him, he thought as he upended the pot and balanced it on top of the dish-rack. Like his friends, his enemies were all long since dead.

So why had her scrutiny made him so uncomfortable, then? Was it just the old instinct, just a reaction too deeply ingrained to rationalize away? After all, he had no need to hide his identity any more--

Kenshin's eyes went wide and he froze for a moment in horror, then dived frantically to catch the cup that had slipped from his soapy fingers before it hit the bottom of the sink.

He _did_ have to hide his identity. Ever since Yuriko had dressed him up as a girl and smuggled him into this women's apartment house.

Did Motoko suspect? Had she seen something odd, something off? Is that why she had stared at him so searchingly? Kenshin blinked anxiously down at the cup in his hands, replaying Motoko's words in his head. There was nothing there that indicated suspicion, but then, how could such a suspicion be phrased? There was no way Motoko could come right out and ask him, 'are you really a woman?' The thought was patently ridiculous.

Kenshin bit his lip, torn for a moment between anxiety and an odd sort of amusement. Then he shook his head and picked up the dish sponge again.

There was nothing for it but to do his best, he thought as he washed the cup. He had been careful when he'd returned from the market, re-combing his hair and checking that the powder on his cheek hid his scar properly. Beyond that, what more could he do? 'Act female,' he supposed, but the stereotype of femininity bore little if any resemblance to the behavior of most of the women he had known.

He should talk to Yuriko about this. Her ruse had held so far, but he had no idea how much longer he'd be able to pull it off. Until Yuriko came up with something else, though, he would just have to hope for the best. And in the meantime there were the rest of the dishes to be washed, and another pot of tea to be made. Yuriko and Hana were waiting for him.

Kenshin rinsed the cup briskly and reached for another.

o-o-o

Yuriko lay awake on her futon, eyes open in the darkness, and thought about Kyoto. The memory had been so vivid, such a wild rush of images and emotions, so different from the frustratingly vague impressions that made up the rest of her memories of Kenshin from before.

She still hadn't had a chance to talk to him properly. It had taken him longer than she'd expected to join them in the lounge for tea, and when he'd finally come he'd brought Motoko along with him.

Or rather, Motoko had brought him along. The younger woman had marched into the lounge with a steaming teapot and a fourth cup in her hands, Kenshin fluttering anxiously in her wake. She had practically ordered him to sit down, and had poured a cup of tea first for Kenshin, then for herself. Then she had smiled serenely around at the small gathering and sipped daintily at her tea.

Yuriko's spirits had sunk. Motoko's presence had put even more of a damper on the conversation than Hana's had, especially when Motoko had snapped at the younger woman over her new nickname for Yuriko. Yuriko had made no move to stop her. 'Yu-chan,' indeed.

But Kenshin had tried to intervene, had tried to smooth things over, and had been snapped at by Motoko in turn. After that, he'd spent the rest of the evening in full-blown rurouni mode, 'oro'-ing and generally acting silly. He'd managed to cheer Hana up, but serious conversation had been completely impossible.

Yuriko turned over and punched the sides of her pillow. It was so _frustrating_. It was like there were big gaps in her memory. What was a rurouni? She had no idea, except for the knowledge that Kenshin had been one. And what did 'oro' mean, anyway?

He'd looked like he'd been enjoying himself, making Hana laugh, even softening Motoko's icy mood, but the wall had been there again behind his eyes. She'd seen it, in the quiet moments, in the little gaps in the conversation when she'd sat still and watched him. Even as he'd chattered on, entertaining them all, it was as if he'd been keeping himself separate, holding himself just a little distance apart from them.

Sometimes she felt like she'd never cross that distance.

Except that she _knew_ that that distance had been crossed already. After the little party had broken up, after they'd put away the tea things and washed up for bed, after they'd gone upstairs at last to spend the night in their separate rooms, there in the hallway before they'd parted Kenshin had looked at her with gentle eyes and smiled softly and said good night. In that moment, it was as if she had known him forever.

Still, she hadn't had a chance to ask him about going to Kamakura again next weekend. She hadn't really had a chance to ask him about his commitments either. She had gotten in an oblique question about whether there was anything in the next few days that he'd need to deal with, but he'd waved it off with a smile. No worries, he'd said.

It was as if she should know already. As if she should remember.

Yuriko groaned and rolled onto her back. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she remember? And then there was that image from Kyoto, that vivid memory so laden with emotion, that horrifying picture of Kenshin covered in his own blood. It was as real as anything, as real as any of her memories.

Except for the fact that she'd never been to Kyoto.

It must have been a dream. It couldn't have been a dream. She'd seen the scar, faint but clear across Kenshin's back.

Her class had gone; the school trip during her first year in high school had been to Kyoto. But she'd missed it. She'd caught a bad cold the day before and had to stay home, lying in bed and trying not to think about all the fantastic sights she was missing, all that history that they'd spent the entire term studying in preparation.

She'd missed it.

Hadn't she?

Had she really gone, and somehow forgotten it? Was this another huge gap in her memory? But those hadn't been her classmates standing in the ruins of the Aoi-ya, starting forward up the road in mingled eagerness and apprehension at the first sight of their friends returning from battle.

And there was something else that didn't add up. If Kenshin was as young as he looked, he would've been in kindergarten during her first year in high school. No, Yuriko thought; he couldn't be that young. He must be closer to her own age. Otherwise there was just no time to fit it all in.

They had known each other so well, had been together for so long. And yet when she took stock of her life, when she thought back through these four years in Tokyo, through the six she'd spent post-graduation living with her parents in Kamakura and working her way from one temporary job to another in the recession-blighted economy, back through college before that, there was no time to account for it, no gap into which she could slip that chapter of her life. Maybe in the mistier past of high school or middle school; maybe they'd spent some long lazy childhood summer together at a relative's house somewhere. But even then, she could identify no time in which Kyoto could have happened.

Yuriko turned over again and pounded her pillow, then flopped down on it with an exasperated sigh.

There had to be a rational explanation for all of this. Kenshin was as close as family; there was no doubt about that. But Kyoto.... Even if she couldn't work out when it had happened, she definitely _remembered_ Kyoto. It was as real as any other part of her life. It was just a matter of recalling how it all fit together.

Her parents would know, Yuriko thought. They'd know when she'd made that trip to Kyoto; they'd remember how and when she'd met Kenshin. She'd just have to ask them about it. Next weekend, or as soon as she found her phone.

Yes, she decided. She'd ask her parents. And that meant there was no point losing sleep over it now. Yuriko put the question firmly out of her mind and closed her eyes.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_wakame - a type of edible kelp used in salads and soup. The fronds are bright green, with a pleasant flavor and slippery texture. _

_miso - a thick, salty paste made from fermented soybeans, sometimes also containing rice or barley. Miso paste is added to soup stock to create miso soup. Usually the miso itself is not boiled, in order to preserve the biological activity of the fermenting fungus. Miso soup paired with plain rice is a major staple of the Japanese diet. Yum! _


	13. A proper breakfast

**13. A proper breakfast **

"KENNNN-SHINNNNN!"

Yuriko hurled her bedroom door open with a bang and glared out into the hallway.

"What is it, Kaoru?"

He was there almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for her, dressed already in the blouse and long plaid skirt that she'd given him the night before, his hair neatly combed and pinned up in front. He gave her a cheery smile, eyes wide and innocent.

Yuriko glared at him. He looked as if he had no idea what he'd done wrong. He'd tied his hair back into its usual ponytail, too, even after she'd explicitly told him to leave it down. She was going to have to break him of that habit. But right now she had bigger fish to fry.

"Get in here," she growled, grabbing the front of his blouse with her free hand and yanking him across the threshold.

"Oro-"

She hurled the door shut behind him. "You washed laundry yesterday, didn't you, Kenshin."

"Yes?" The first flicker of uncertainty had crept into his expression.

"You washed _my_ laundry yesterday." Her left fist tightened around the bunched fabric of Kenshin's blouse, her right around the silky pink thing in its grip.

"Ye-es?" He was trying to retreat. She pulled him closer.

"Including my _underwear?_" Yuriko thrust the panties out in front of her and waved them accusingly in front of Kenshin's eyes.

He was holding up his hands placatingly, a panicked smile on his face. "But Kaoru, I always wash your underwear, that I--"

"You _what?_" she squawked, giving him a violent shake. "What kind of a pervert are you!" She'd tossed the panties aside and snatched up her folding fan from her desk, raising it above her head.

"But--" _whack!_ "--Kaoru--" _whack!_ "--I'm your--" _whack!_ "...oro..."

Yuriko froze in sudden shock, fan hovering in mid-swing. What was she doing? She opened her hands, horrified.

The fan clattered to the floor. Kenshin followed it.

_-Klatta-_

_Whump._

"K- Kenshin?" Yuriko's voice was faint with shock. He had crumpled into a boneless heap on the tatami, his eyes rolling up into his head.

What had she done? What had she been thinking? Yuriko watched in horror as a drop of blood ran down diagonally across his forehead and tracked its way slowly along his left eyebrow.

"Kenshin!" She dropped to her knees in front of him and gripped him by the shoulders, desperately trying to get some response. "Kenshin, please, I'm so sorry--"

He stirred, winced, raised a hand toward his head. "You're very strong, that you are, Kaoru," he muttered indistinctly.

"I'm so sorry, Kenshin. I don't know what got into me." She hovered over him, hands still on his shoulders, feeling sick inside and trying to think what she could do to help.

She'd hit him. She'd hit Kenshin. How could she have done such a thing? She had opened her drawer to get dressed and had seen her underwear, all washed and neatly folded and put away, and the thought that Kenshin had taken such a liberty had made her furious. She hadn't even thought twice about hitting him. Was she some kind of monster inside?

"No... it's all right." Kenshin sat up unsteadily, blinking a few times and holding onto his head. "It's my fault, that it is. I should have asked you first, Kaoru."

"No!" She'd hit him, and _he_ was apologizing? "Kenshin, no. Please don't be sorry for that. I should be thanking you for it! You didn't have to do my laundry. It was really nice of you. I'm so sorry I hit you. There's no excuse--" She was babbling. She was losing it.

"No, Kaoru, it's all right," he said gently, and smiled at her again, openly and with genuine amusement. "Really, it is. You don't need to apologize, that you don't."

"But your head--"

"It's all right," he repeated.

"...Oh." He was all right. Thank god, he was all right. Yuriko closed her eyes for a moment as relief flooded through her.

She had still hit him, though. She'd never hit anyone before. How could that be all right?

"Well," she added, "I'm still sorry."

Kenshin got to his feet in a single fluid motion and reached down to help her up. "You should come down for breakfast now, before it gets cold, that you should, Kaoru."

"Breakfast?" she echoed, taking his hand. Had he cooked for her? Was that why he'd been right outside her door, because he'd been coming to call her down for breakfast? The thought made her cringe with guilt.

"Yep!" he said brightly. "There's rice and miso soup ready. The pickles are cold anyway, so they can wait longer, that they can, Kaoru." He stepped toward the door, smiling back at her cheerily.

"Wait--" Yuriko grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on her desk and held them out toward Kenshin. "You're bleeding," she explained, with a guilty grimace.

o-o-o

Takamori Chiyoko crossed her legs, balancing the right-hand side of the gardening section of the morning's paper on one knee while she reached absently for her coffee cup. She raised it to her lips, eyes still on the paper, and then frowned into its depths. Empty.

She sighed and levered herself up out of the old green armchair, folding the paper with a rustle and dropping it onto the newly-vacated seat. Just time for another cup, she thought as she padded across her carpeted office and out into the hall. She hoped she wouldn't have to brew up another pot. The girls tended to drink up any hot coffee they could get their hands on in the morning. Not that Takamori minded or anything. She made it mainly for them, anyway; it was just as easy to make up a whole pot as it was a single cup.

The savory warm smell of miso soup hit her half way across the foyer, starting her mouth watering. She'd seen the soup-pot on the stove earlier when she'd first come down to the kitchen to make the coffee and eat her toast and jam. She'd wondered then which of her girls would be up and cooking so early. It hadn't even been seven yet.

Takamori peeked through the doorway into the dining room. One end of the big table had been set with bowls and small dishes, laid out between Yuriko and--

"Good morning, Takamori-dono!" Kenshin popped up from the other chair and came over to greet her, looking adorable in a white blouse and a long plaid burgundy-and-navy skirt that Takamori vaguely recognized as Yuriko's. "Would you like to join us? There's plenty, that there is."

"Goodness!" Takamori exclaimed. "Yuriko dear, did you cook this?"

Yuriko was shaking her head, smiling while she chewed and pointing toward Kenshin.

Takamori beamed. "A traditional Japanese breakfast! Kenshin dear, that's wonderful! And all you girls are usually so rushed in the mornings, too. I would _love_ to join you!" She slid into one of the empty chairs next to Yuriko, waving Kenshin back towards the other place setting. "Please, eat, eat, don't mind me at all. I already had my toast and stuff."

She gazed longingly at the spread as Kenshin poured her a cup of tea. Her mouth was watering again.

"But maybe..." she began. Kenshin had offered, after all, and it all looked so good. "Maybe just a couple of pickles?"

o-o-o

A proper breakfast. It was such a novelty to Yuriko. She never had the time -- let alone the presence of mind -- to do anything like this for herself in the morning. On workdays it was always the same routine: out of bed at seven, down to the bathroom to wash her face, back up to her room to get dressed, and then down again to the kitchen to make herself some toast with marmalade. There was usually coffee already brewed by that time, thanks to Takamori.

On weekends she had the time in principle, but she usually slept in when she wasn't at her parents' and by the time she'd gotten up and dressed she was feeling antsy to get out of the house, so she would make toast and coffee the same as usual. The only time she ate a proper breakfast was at her parents' house, and then it was usually her mom's pancakes, not rice and soup like this.

She wasn't even that much later than normal, Yuriko thought, glancing at her watch as she swallowed the last of her soup. Twenty minutes to eight; if she hurried she could be out of the house at quarter-'til as usual, and she wouldn't even have to run to catch her train.

"I'd better get going," she said, laying down her chopsticks across the edge of her empty rice bowl. "I'm just going to run up and grab my stuff. Kenshin, that was a wonderful breakfast," she added, standing up and reaching across the table to touch his hand briefly. "Thank you so much!"

"Of course, Kaoru." He smiled back up at her softly.

"I'll be right back," she said, feeling a bit awkward for running off. But she knew she had to get moving if she didn't want to be late.

Yuriko hurried out of the dining room, skipped up the stairs, jogged down the second-floor corridor to her room. It was a good thing she rarely took anything out of her shoulder-bag, she thought as she lifted it from her desk. She cast a quick eye around her room, then stooped to pick up her folding fan from the floor and drop it into the bag. As hot as it had been yesterday, today's forecast was even hotter, or so Rika had said on their way to the station after work.

Kenshin was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, holding a square cloth-wrapped bundle in one hand. He followed her across the foyer to the front door.

Yuriko set down her shoulder-bag on the floor and stepped into her shoes, reaching down to do up the buckles. "I'll be back around six, like yesterday, okay?" she said over her shoulder. "If you get bored, I've got a big stack of library books in my room; just grab anything you like. And if you want to borrow my bike it's out back in the shed; just let Mei-chan know, okay? She borrows it a lot. The neighborhood around here isn't very exciting," she added, laying her hands on her knees and grimacing up at him apologetically. "But I'm sure Takamori-san can tell you where things are if you ask her." She straightened up, and he offered her the kerchief-wrapped box.

"What's this?" she said, puzzled.

He blinked at her. "Your bento," he said, as if she ought to have known.

Yuriko's eyes widened in happy amazement. "You made me a bento lunch?"

"Yes, of course. You really should have something to eat in the middle of the day, that you should, Kaoru."

"Gosh, thanks!" She accepted the bundle from him happily. "Normally I just go to the cafeteria, but thank you. You didn't have to do this. You didn't have to make breakfast either--"

Kenshin had seized upon her words, his face turning anxious. "If you normally go to the cafeteria, Kaoru, please, I don't want to interfere, that I don't--"

Yuriko winced. She'd made him worry again, made him think he was doing something wrong. Why was he so sensitive that way? He was almost tiptoeing around her. Was it because she'd hit him earlier?

"No, no, it's fine," she replied. "It's more than fine; it's fantastic!" She grinned at him enthusiastically, and after a moment he smiled back at her, anxiety fading. "Man," she added, "Rika and Hitomi are going to be so jealous."

"Oh--" Kenshin looked suddenly horrified.

"No!" Yuriko cut him off, holding up a forestalling hand. "I forbid you from making bento for my work friends! Honestly, they can get their own food."

Kenshin considered this for a moment, then dropped his chin slightly and nodded. Then he reached down to pick up her shoulder-bag, stepped into his own zori, and slipped past her to open the big wooden door. He offered her the bag with a smile.

Yuriko sighed, gazing at his small form framed in the brightness of the doorway. There was a sudden warmth in her chest, a feeling like she wanted to hold on to this moment forever.

"Kenshin," she said softly, taking her bag from him and hooking the strap over her right shoulder.

"Yes, Kaoru?"

"I'm so happy you're here."

"Mm," he said softly, and smiled.

"See you tonight!" She reached out and gave him a quick one-armed squeeze.

"See you tonight, Kaoru," he replied as she released him. He was smiling at her gently, and his violet eyes were warm.

o-o-o

Kenshin leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and watched her go, his arms crossed and a soft but happy smile on his face. She was half-running down the street, the cloth-wrapped bento box swinging from one hand and the maroon strap of her shoulder-bag clutched in the other, but it looked as if she was running more from joy than from haste.

He gazed down the street after her, watching the way she moved, watching the lightness in her step. Soon he would have to think about the meaning of this morning's conversation, but not yet. Not while she was still in his sight.

Yuriko reached the curve of the street and whirled round to wave at him one last time, her auburn hair flying around her shoulders. Even from here, he could see the sparkle in her blue eyes. Then she turned once more, and disappeared beyond the trees.

Kenshin's smile deepened. She really was beautiful. With Kaoru's eyes and Kaoru's smile, how could she be anything but? Her face, her hair, they were different, an incongruity that somehow kept surprising him at unexpected moments, but nevertheless. And what truly mattered anyway was her spirit, her soul, that bright spark inside.

Kenshin sighed and lowered his eyes to the concrete path that cut through the grass in front of the building. He still didn't know what was inside.

Her reaction up in her room this morning had been pure Kaoru, whacking him over the head with the first thing that had come to hand. He felt his scalp, just above his pinned-up bangs. There was a painful lump there where she'd hit him.

No matter, he thought. It would heal soon enough, and for Kaoru it was worth it.

But the thing that had prompted her anger was beyond his understanding. He'd always washed her underclothing, ever since his very first days at the Kamiya dojo. It had been perfectly normal. Had it become some kind of taboo in these hundred and sixteen years? And could he even ask her about it, without making her angry again? He sighed a second time. Maybe this was another one of those things about women that he was fated never to understand.

And then there'd been Yuriko's reaction when she'd realized she was hurting him. She'd stopped hitting him, she'd apologized, she'd tried to make sure he was all right. That in itself had been normal, just what Kaoru would have done.

He smiled a half-smile. Well. Maybe Kaoru would have also blamed him a little for failing to dodge her swing.

But there had been something else in Yuriko's reaction, something that had not been normal. There'd been a kind of shock in her voice, a horror at what she had done. 'There's no excuse,' she'd said. 'I don't know what got into me.' As if the actions that were normal for Kaoru had not been normal for Yuriko. And the way she'd thanked him for breakfast, as if she never would have expected it....

Kenshin clunked his head back against the doorframe and sighed, gazing up into the dark greenness of the cherry trees. Thinking about this was giving him a headache. That, or maybe it was just the lingering effect of Yuriko's folding fan. He gingerly touched the goose-egg on the top of his head and winced. Kaoru or Yuriko, she was still very strong.

o-o-o

Yuriko jogged up the steps from the subway station and out into the thick sunshine, her left thumb hooked under the maroon strap of the bag on her shoulder and her bento lunch swinging from her other hand. She was still grinning like an idiot, and she didn't care. This felt too good to even consider being embarrassed.

All she could think about was Kenshin. His expressive violet eyes, the red hair framing his face, the warm smile that he'd given her just as she'd left home.... It all made her want to giggle with delight. She strode briskly across the concrete plaza in front of the station and onto the bridge that spanned the canal. There was a spring in her step. She felt like she was walking on the clouds.

Yuriko paused at the corner, bouncing slightly on her toes as she waited for a couple of cars to go by before crossing the street. He had made her breakfast, and bento too. She almost felt like a schoolgirl again, skipping to work with her lunch box swinging from one hand.

She had hit him this morning, but he'd forgiven her. It had been stupid of her, such a childish reaction. Such a childish emotion. It occurred to Yuriko suddenly that perhaps that was really what it was -- some hold-over from when she was a kid. Some hold-over from their time together _before_. The thought that it was connected somehow to their past together diluted the lingering guilt.

In any case, Yuriko thought, she was an adult now, not a child. Kenshin may have been all right afterwards, but she could tell that it had hurt when she'd hit him. No more, she vowed. She would never hit Kenshin again. He was far too precious to her for that.

And she ought to make it up to him, too, Yuriko thought as she continued up the sidewalk. She would have to do something extra nice for him. He would probably have dinner ready for her when she got home, so she couldn't take him out to eat tonight. It would have to be something else. Like heating up a nice hot bath for him. Yes, she thought with a smile. He would enjoy that.

It was too bad she had to be at work today. She and Kenshin could be having so much fun together.

Yuriko grinned up at the red brick edifice of the administration building and ran up the stairs.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_bento - boxed lunch. Wikipedia has this to say: "...it is still common for Japanese homemakers to spend considerable time and energy producing an appealing boxed lunch." Um, no comment. _

_"Typo soku zan!" You spot 'em, I slay 'em. _


	14. Domestic tranquility

**14. Domestic tranquility **

The hot air enveloped Kenshin's body like a cocoon, the humidity sticking his hair to the back of his neck and making sweat trickle down his sides under the thin fabric of the blouse. He stood with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, the sheathed sakabatou a familiar weight in his left hand.

He took a silent breath and let it out slowly, extending his senses into the foliage around him. The air was solid with the whine of the cicadas, a sound so steady it was almost a silence. Woven over and through it were the simple songs of the birds in the stand of trees in front of him; under it the distant whoosh of traffic from the nearby roads.

He could feel the sunlight on his hair and his left cheek, could feel its heat on his shoulders through the blouse. The soil was soft under his zori. He could smell loam, and the sharp green scent of crushed vegetation from where he'd stepped coming to this spot, and the faint spiciness of the trees, and below it all, barely discernible, the discordant note of petroleum fumes.

He took another breath, stretching his senses further, feeling for human ki. He could sense a vague presence away behind him and to the right, in the direction of the house, and beyond that an even fainter tickle in three or four directions.

Good.

He was alone.

Kenshin lifted his hands and dropped his weight, his body settling in one smooth motion into the familiar stance: right foot forward, knees bent, sakabatou held horizontally by the sheath, right hand hovering in front of him with fingers splayed and ready. Another long moment as he allowed himself to become aware of the details: the texture of the windings at the top of the sheath under his left palm and fingers; the slight weight of the skirt where it hung across his right thigh; the seams between the toes of his socks where he gripped the straps of his zori. He took another calm and silent breath, and let it all come together.

Kenshin's eyes sprang open and he exploded into motion, whipping the sakabatou out of its sheath with a speed even his own vision couldn't follow, twisting his wrist to flip the blade and striking deep into the thick green, the razor edge whistling low across the fragrant soil. He sprang forward and spun, sword flashing around him, up and then down and across, reflected sunlight cutting intricate patterns through the heavy air.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun. Kenshin landed with a slight tap of one zori, the sound eaten by the soft soil, and slid his sakabatou gently back into its sheath. He stood still for a moment, his breathing normal, his body tingling ever so slightly from the exertion. Then he turned to examine his handiwork.

A garden lay before him, eggplants and melons and greens and lanky cucumber vines and at least three kinds of root vegetables, carpeted with the severed stalks of what had been a waist-high sea of weeds mere seconds before.

Kenshin smiled happily.

o-o-o

"A home-made bento lunch? Yuriko, you've become domestic!"

Yuriko set the cloth-wrapped bundle down on the cafeteria table and slid onto a chair, smiling at Rika in spite of herself. She'd been on the phone with the chemistry department secretary when the other two had left for lunch, sorting out the rooms for the end-of-term lab exams. It hadn't taken her too long to find their table near the windows of the bustling cafeteria.

"Ha," she replied as Rika reached across the table to untie the cloth. "Domestic? You know I couldn't cook to save my life." She shooed Rika away from her bento and spread the cloth neatly around the black plastic box.

"What, then, you've decided cafeteria udon is even worse?" Rika waved a hand back and forth through the steam that rose from her bowl of noodles.

Yuriko shrugged awkwardly. "Homemade's always better," she said, and lifted the top off the box. She started to salivate almost immediately, her eyes going wide as she took in the box's contents, each item tucked neatly into its own little compartment.

Rika and Hitomi both leaned forward to see, identical expressions of curiosity on their faces.

Hitomi raised her eyebrows. "That looks good. You made that? It must've taken ages."

"No, I never have time in the mornings," Yuriko replied, plucking the plastic chopsticks from their narrow slot and then glancing up to flash a shy smile at her friends. "Kenshin made it for me."

Hitomi smiled delightedly. "That's so nice!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Rika quipped. "When's the wedding?"

Yuriko felt her face flush. "Kenshin's just a friend!" she insisted defensively. "There's nothing going on!"

Of course there wasn't. How could there be? She'd never had a boyfriend; she and Kenshin had been kids together. They were friends, that was all. Friends as close as family.

Right?

Rika smirked. "Heh. Liar."

Yuriko growled, surprising herself, and suppressed a sudden urge to kick Rika under the table.

"Hey, Rika..." Hitomi was saying in a low tone, her brown eyes uncomfortable behind their rectangular lenses. "I wouldn't..."

"Fine. Sorry." Rika was still smirking, amused. "I didn't mean it." She picked up a long white noodle in her chopsticks and leaned forward, brushing her pastel neck-scarf back out of the way with her free hand. "But you know it's true," she added, and slurped up the noodle.

Yuriko clenched her teeth and took a long breath through her nose. She mustn't kick her coworker, she told herself. What was it with her today? Hitting Kenshin this morning, and now this? She had to get a grip on herself. Violence was no solution to anything.

She shook her head, dabbing at her bento with her chopsticks, and took an experimental bite. It was just a bit of seaweed salad, but the flavor filled her mouth as she munched down on it, sesame seeds popping delightfully between her teeth. She smiled eagerly and tried the tofu.

Kenshin had done a fantastic job, Yuriko thought as she chewed. When had he had the time to prepare all this? Maybe he'd done some of it last night, while cooking dinner. Or maybe he'd gotten up really early. This had been so kind of him.

"So Yuriko," Rika said, looking up from her udon. "What's he like? Where's he from? What does he do? Come on, give us the story."

"Yeah," Hitomi added. "We've been wondering since yesterday."

What was he like? Yuriko swallowed a bite of rice. Where to start...

"He's..." she began. She'd never been terribly good at describing people. "He's a good friend," she said. "We've known each other for ages."

"Yeah, but what's he _like?_" Rika repeated around a half-chewed bite of udon.

"He's... you know. He's just _Kenshin_," she hedged. She could see him in her mind, could see those gentle eyes of his, could see his soft smile. Those gentle eyes, and the steel will that lay behind them.

Rika had arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

"He's kind," Yuriko began again, slowly, shifting her eyes slightly away from Rika to gaze out the big plate-glass window at the trees of the quad. "He cares about people. Not just out of courtesy; he really cares. And... and he never gives up." She paused and took a sip of her weak cafeteria tea, smiling to herself. "I guess he's stubborn that way. Or determined. Determined's a better word." She glanced down at the teacup in her hand. "He has a big spirit," she added, almost to herself. "You forget how little he is."

"Little?" Hitomi prompted.

Yuriko glanced up. Hitomi and Rika were drinking in her words, their faces rapt. "Yeah," she said, and grinned. "Little. He only comes up to here on me." She held a hand level with her eyes.

Rika raised her eyebrows. "That's not good," she said, in mock disapproval. "A husband should be tall enough to sweep you off your feet."

"Dammit, Rika! There is nothing going on!"

"Sorry!" Rika yelped, and clapped a hand theatrically over her mouth.

"Go on," Hitomi prompted gently, gesturing with her head so that the ends of her bobbed hair swung back and forth beside her ears.

Yuriko sighed. Rika's inappropriate comment and her own subsequent outburst had thoroughly derailed her train of thought. "There's not much to say, really," she replied at last. "He's just Kenshin."

"And he's a good cook," Rika added. "And he cares about you enough to make bento for you."

"He likes cooking," Yuriko replied. "He made me breakfast this morning too. And dinner last night." She scooped up another bite of seaweed salad and popped it into her mouth.

Rika smiled delightedly. "That's wonderful, Yuriko! That's the best kind of house-guest!" She made a show of grimacing at her noodles. "Now where can I get one...?"

"Hey, Yuriko..." Hitomi was looking puzzled.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you live in an all-women's apartment house?"

"Uh..." Yuriko stopped, chopsticks half-way to her mouth. She'd told them about Kenshin cooking for her, without realizing the obvious implication. There was no way she could tell Rika and Hitomi about how she'd dressed Kenshin up as a girl. Now that she thought about it, it had been a preposterous idea. "It's," she began, "it's, ah, it's complicated."

Rika dismissed her discomfiture with a wave. "So tell us more! Where's he from? What does he do?"

"Uh..." Yuriko said again, suddenly at a loss. Where _was_ Kenshin from? Had she ever even asked? She must have known at some point, but the memory was just gone. And as for what he did....

"It's... it's been a long time since we saw each other," she hedged. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, and there hasn't been much time."

She took another bite of her bento to give herself time to think. It was true; there hadn't been much time. There'd been this morning at breakfast, but she'd been rushed and Takamori had been going on about that spectacular breakfast Kenshin had made. There'd been the evening before, but with Hana at the table they'd made only small-talk, and after dinner it had been even worse, with Kenshin caught in the crossfire of Motoko and Hana's little argument. Kenshin could be very frivolous when he didn't know how else to deal with a situation, she reflected. And before that, there had been only Sunday evening, on a crowded train and then at a crowded dinner table. Kenshin had been too exhausted to string more than a few words together after that.

Yuriko toyed with her food, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. What had tired him out that badly? He'd been ready to collapse by nine that night, had still been fast asleep when she'd left for work the next morning. And now that she thought about it, he'd looked worryingly thin, too, as if he'd been ill recently. How had she missed that? She should have noticed it before, certainly when he'd taken off his kimono to put on her spare blouse Sunday evening. But she'd been distracted then, too giddy with the joy of being with him, and then too shocked by that horrific memory of Kyoto.

And it was more than just physical. When she'd first seen him at Sae's place there'd been a strain in him, as if he'd been barely holding on to his composure. And then there'd been that moment coming into the dining room Sunday night, when he'd very nearly lost it.

Something was wrong, Yuriko realized suddenly. Her concern was followed by a surge of protectiveness, leaving her feeling clear-headed and fierce. The look in Kenshin's eyes when she'd first stepped into Sae's apartment, the way the violet had gone wobbly with tears...

Kenshin needed her. Something was wrong, and compared to that the strange gaps in her own memory were unimportant.

Unless...

"So how did you meet him, then?"

...unless they were somehow connected. Yuriko tapped the table with the back ends of her chopsticks, fishing desperately through her memory. How had she met him? How had she met Kenshin? There'd been that flash of memory the previous evening, that fleeting image of the old-fashioned house, but other than that there was nothing. Just a sense of long familiarity, a sense that they'd each been the center of the other's life as time had flowed on and on around them. A sense of a Kenshin-shaped hole in her heart that she hadn't even known was there until it had been filled.

Yuriko smiled a happy-sad smile. "I'll tell you later," she said softly.

Rika raised an eyebrow. "You, my friend, are being evasive."

Yuriko looked back at her, still smiling, and didn't deny it.

"Fine." Rika said it with a laugh, as if enjoying a joke. "Tell us later. I'll look forward to it." She slurped up another noodle. "When do we get to meet him?"

Yuriko opened her mouth and closed it again, startled. She could, she realized. She could bring Kenshin to meet her friends. He was really here, with her, and she could introduce him to her friends. The thought made her heart race a little, as if mingling these two aspects of her life were just a little bit dangerous. A small smile crept onto her lips.

"How about the office party?" Hitomi suggested.

"Yeah!" Rika smacked a palm with her fist. "The office party on Friday! You're coming, right? You can bring Kenshin along! It'll be brilliant!"

"The office party!" What with Kamakura and the marriage meeting and Kenshin, Yuriko had forgotten all about the office party. She'd never really enjoyed the annual dinner and karaoke bash; it had always left her feeling subtly excluded, as if everyone else were having more fun than she was, especially by the time they got to the sake-lubricated singing. But with Kenshin there with her, maybe it would be all right. Except--

"But what about the reservations?" she said. "And aren't we supposed to be bonding or something?"

"It'll be fine!" Rika said. "I'll talk to The Boss and get Kenshin invited. You'll see." She winked at Yuriko. "Stable families lead to contented workers," she quipped.

"Dammit--" Yuriko's ears went hot.

Rika had already thrown herself back in her chair, laughing. "Sorry, sorry." She brushed tears from her eyes. "God, you are so much fun."

Yuriko shot a glance at Hitomi, desperate for support. But the other woman had her eyes squeezed shut, and her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

o-o-o

Kenshin leaned against the scaly bark of a fir tree and wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his wrist. Cutting the weeds had been the easy part. Gathering them all up and stacking them on top of the heap of decaying leaves over by the trees had taken the better part of twenty minutes, leaving him sticky and itchy and covered with tiny bits of plant material. He frowned and shook particles out of his skirt. It was a good thing he'd at least had the presence of mind to roll up the sleeves of his borrowed blouse before he'd started.

Nevertheless, he thought, it had been well worth it. He let his eyes play again over the vegetable garden, smiling with anticipation. Those eggplants were just mature enough to pick; they would be tender and not seedy at all, just right for marinating and braising. And the carrots and burdock could be cut into matchsticks, flash-sauteed and then steamed...

Kenshin straightened up and headed back toward the house to where he'd left a shallow washbasin near the outside tap. He ran cool water into it and rinsed the leaf particles off his hands and arms, then splashed a little water onto his face.

There. Better. He blinked drops of water off his eyelashes. The weeds were taken care of; now he just had to clean the floors and go do the shopping. There were no students around to do the cleaning like there'd been at the dojo, and he needed tofu, vinegar, wakame, sesame oil, maybe a few other things for dinner tonight. He'd harvest the vegetables after he got back, so they'd be as fresh as possible. Kenshin picked up his sakabatou and got to his feet once more.

o-o-o

"Bad news," Rika said as she re-entered the office and crossed over to her desk.

"Hmm?" Yuriko looked up over her shoulder, hands hovering above her keyboard. She'd just opened up the enrollment database: with the end of term coming up, it was time for students to apply to graduate and time for her to check that they'd fulfilled their program requirements.

"The Boss says no go." Rika sprawled into her chair and swiveled around, pushing her feathered hair back from her face with both hands. "The dinner's for office staff only; no guests allowed." She spoke as if quoting, a grimace on her face.

"Mm. I'd kind of thought so," Yuriko replied. The senior administrator was big on staff development, which included the not entirely voluntary 'informal socialization events.' She was not one to be crossed, either; while Rika called her 'The Boss' in private, it was always 'Ando-san' to her face.

It was too bad, Yuriko thought as she turned back toward her desk. She'd been looking forward to introducing Kenshin to her friends. She licked her thumb and plucked the first of the graduation applications out of her inbox.

Rika was quiet for a little while, the only sound the faint whoosh of the air conditioning and the _takata-takata_ of Yuriko's keyboard as she typed in a student's name.

"I meant it about stable families," Rika said, after a few minutes.

"Hmm?" Yuriko scanned her eyes down the screen, ticked a couple of check-boxes, and clicked the 'submit' button.

"Friday nights are precious." Rika's voice was restrained, thoughtful. "I'm... I'm sure The Boss would understand if you don't want to spend the time with us office folks."

Yuriko raised her eyebrows. She'd had so little time to talk to Kenshin as it was. A Friday night.... Was Rika offering to help her get out of it?

She swiveled around to look at Rika again. "Thanks, Rika," she said sincerely. "You don't have to, honestly. But... I'll think about it, okay?"

The other woman smiled. "Don't forget, though: I still want to meet this Kenshin of yours." She paused, thoughtful. "Hey, d'you want to do lunch this weekend? I can ask Hitomi too. I don't think she's doing anything."

Yuriko considered. They'd met for lunch several times before, at Rika's suggestion mostly; every couple of months, in fact, in the three years since the other two women had joined the staff. With bringing Kenshin to the office party no longer an option, a weekend lunch was probably the best way to introduce him to her friends.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Maybe. Although I might go home to Kamakura again this weekend. I haven't decided."

Rika smiled. "It would be nice, if you're going to be here," she said. "Saturday, then? We could meet you at your place."

Yuriko hesitated. Yes, they'd gone out to lunch together, but Rika and Hitomi had never actually been over to her place before. It was a reluctance on her own part, a reluctance to combine her work life with her apartment life. And besides, she shared the common spaces with her household. Compared to Rika and Hitomi with private apartments of their own, her living situation seemed inferior, childish even. And she didn't want to impose her work friends upon her housemates.

What's more, she'd have to get Kenshin dressed as normal and smuggle him out. A twinge of unease settled into her stomach. She had lied to her housemates. It had been expedient, but it had created an inconsistency between her home life and her work life that could become complicated if the two came too close together.

Yuriko suppressed the worry. She'd always kept home and work separate. She'd think of something, and just now it would be too complicated having Rika and Hitomi meet her at the apartment house.

"Sure," she said. "But let's meet at a cafe or something. I'll let you know about Kamakura."

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Rest in peace Haku Baikou. You will not be forgotten._


	15. Blast from the past

**15. Blast from the past **

Takamori Chiyoko had always kept her apartment house clean. It meant daily sweeping and weekly scrubbing of the common areas, not to mention the work she put in during the summer on the formal garden in the back. It cost her enough time these days that she'd abandoned her little vegetable patch.

But this...

The bristles of the broom skritched to rest and Takamori frowned down at the floor of the foyer. The honey-colored wood glowed softly in the filtered afternoon light.

It wasn't usually quite so lustrous. But that wasn't what had caught her eye.

The area that she'd just swept seemed duller than the rest of the floor.

Takamori got down on her knees and peered at the transition between the swept and unswept areas. Her frown deepened. She took off her thick glasses and inspected them briefly, then brought her eyes to within inches of the floor, squinting.

The unswept area was clean, spotless, shining, as if it had been wiped down with damp cloths and then polished dry. In the area that she'd just swept, her broom had scattered fine particles of dust.

Takamori raised her eyebrows in surprise and levered herself to her feet, sliding her glasses back up over her ears.

Someone had cleaned the floor. It had certainly not been her. Yesterday she might have swept the veranda and forgotten about it, but she would have remembered cleaning this floor. For one thing, she would be able to feel it in her knees.

Who had done it, then? The girls were responsible for keeping their own rooms clean and for tidying up after using the kitchen or the bath, but they all knew that Takamori took care of the common areas.

She pondered the possibilities. It wasn't her birthday. None of the girls had tracked in mud or made a mess of things or done anything mean to her, so they wouldn't be trying to apologize. She hadn't done any of them a special favor-- well, except maybe for Yuriko, letting her cousin from the country stay for a few days...

Yuriko's cousin from the country. Kenshin. Takamori raised her eyebrows again. Kenshin had cleaned up her vegetable garden. Kenshin might have done this as well.

What else had Kenshin done? Takamori padded across the foyer to where the wooden floor continued into the dining room. It was equally clean in there. It was hard to tell, but the table might have been scrubbed as well.

A delicious smell was wafting in from the kitchen. She continued on to where the wood gave way to the large white tiles. The kitchen floor was shining. Even near the counter, where it tended to collect a few crumbs or drops of unidentifiable liquids by this time in the afternoon; even near the back door, where it tended to collect bits of dirt and grit blown or tracked in on socks or slippers from the veranda.

The counter was also clean, save for a small armada of covered bowls and dishes. The mouth-watering smell was coming from a large steel pot left simmering on the stove. A thin tendril of steam twined upwards from the rice cooker.

Takamori smiled in spite of herself. Kenshin didn't have to clean the common areas, but she wouldn't refuse such a gift. This gave her time to clean her own rooms back opposite the lounge. Takamori hefted her broom and turned back towards the foyer.

o-o-o

"Yu-u-chan! Kon-nichi-wa!"

The sing-song greeting echoed off the tiles as Hana skipped into the bathroom. Yuriko gave her a stern look and toweled off her face.

"Hello, Hana-chan," she replied primly. She had been home from work for less than five minutes. To her delight, Kenshin had been waiting for her again on the front steps, looking happy and relaxed and unnervingly girlish in the long plaid skirt that she'd given him the night before. Yuriko had bounded up the steps and taken his hands briefly in greeting before hurrying off to the bathroom to wash her face and hands before dinner.

"Whaddaya think? Whaddaya think?" Hana was saying, practically bouncing with excitement. The younger girl stuck out her arms and twirled around, showing off the turquoise-blue haori that she was wearing over her clothes. It was made of some stiff, cheap-looking fabric, the ends of the sleeves and the bottom hem decorated with large white triangles in a bold zigzag. A single kanji was screen-printed in white on the back. _Makoto._ Sincerity.

Yuriko shrugged. "Yeah?" she said unhelpfully, still a little annoyed about the 'Yu-chan'.

"Oh, come on Yu-chan, you went to school! Shinsengumi!"

Ah, Yuriko thought, so that was why the design looked vaguely familiar. "Yeah?" she said again. "So what?" This time she softened the dismissal with a smile.

"It's for the sno-cone stand. We're doing a promotion. The Shinsengumi are _big_ right now. Come on, you must've seen the series!"

"Series?" Yuriko hung up the towel on her hook on the wall and hefted her shoulder-bag off the floor, turning to head back out into the hallway.

Hana rolled her eyes and threw up her arms. "Oh, Yu-chan, you're so out of touch." She trailed Yuriko down the hall. "The Shinsengumi are the hottest thing ever! You know that, right, Takamori-san?"

"Eh?" Takamori looked back over her shoulder with a smile, broom in hand as she came out of her private office. "What's that, Hana dear?" she asked as she followed Yuriko back into the foyer. "That color looks nice on you."

"It's from the Shinsengumi," Hana prompted. "You've seen it, right, Takamori-san?"

"Seen what, Hana dear?" Takamori asked as she crossed the foyer to put her broom away in the small closet beside the door. The wood floor was already spotless.

"Oh, god, I'm surrounded by philistines," Hana sighed.

Takamori had turned her smile onto Yuriko. "Oh, and Yuriko dear," she said, "Kenshin's making dinner for you again. She is _such_ a sweetheart. She was out back all afternoon salvaging my vegetable garden, the dear sweet thing!"

"Oro?" Kenshin had wandered in unobtrusively from the dining room and then stopped, his eyes wide with surprise. "Hana-dono..." He pointed. "That haori..."

Hana held out her arms, showing off the squared-off sleeves with their distinctive white triangle edging. "Isn't it cool?" She twirled around. "We're doing a promotion. We've got turquoise sno-cone syrup and everything."

Yuriko grimaced. "And people buy this?"

"Of course!" Hana stuck out her tongue. "The Shinsengumi are awesome! You two are just out of touch." She waved a dismissive hand at Yuriko and Takamori, then turned to Kenshin again. "Hey, Kenshin-san, you've seen the Shinsengumi, haven't you?"

"Oro--" Kenshin's expression had frozen somewhere in between embarrassment and horror. "The... the Shinsengumi? Well-- That is-- It might be possible to say that..."

"See?" Hana exclaimed, throwing a triumphant grin at the other two women. "Even from the country, she's _much_ more with it than you two sticks-in-the-mud!" She turned back to Kenshin, eyes alight, bouncing a little on her toes. "So! Kenshin-san! Who's your favorite?" She mimed the drawing of a sword, a thrust and a slash. "Hijikata? Kondou?"

A look of uncomprehending terror had settled on Kenshin's face. "My favorite...?" he said in a tiny voice.

"Or Okita?" Hana sighed dreamily, laying one palm momentarily on her cheek. "He is _so_ cute."

"Cute?" Kenshin squeaked.

"Or--" Hana gasped, eyes wide, clapping a hand over her mouth for a second. "No way, don't tell me it's Saitou!"

"It would be safe to say that that is not the case," Kenshin whimpered.

"Whew!" Hana rolled her eyes ceilingward, a hand on her chest in relief, then flashed a grin at Kenshin. "Fine," she continued, "you don't have to tell me in front of _them_." A dismissive flick of her hand indicated Yuriko and Takamori. "But some other time, if you tell me your favorite, I'll tell you mine." She grinned at Kenshin and winked.

"Oro."

A smile twitched at Yuriko's lips. Kenshin was way out of his depth.

"Oh, by the way, I brought home red-bean mochi." Hana dove to her book-bag near the front door and pulled out a clear plastic bag. "Mmm, mochi!" She held up the bag enticingly, displaying the squashy white confections to all of them, then smiled again at Kenshin. Her eyes were guileless as she said, "So, can I join you for dinner?"

o-o-o

Dinner, again, was a delight. Yuriko couldn't remember when she'd eaten traditional-style food that actually tasted so good. It was simple old-fashioned fare, heavy on the rice and vegetables -- Yuriko couldn't be entirely sure, but there didn't seem to be any meat or fish this evening at all -- but it still felt satisfying. And the vegetables seemed very fresh.

She'd been chatting lightly with Kenshin and the others -- Hana and Takamori had both ended up joining them at the table, the latter at Kenshin's insistence -- enjoying the company and the food.

"It's gotta've been Kondou's idea," Hana was saying. She'd worn her turquoise haori to the table and had been chattering on about her favorite drama series all through dinner. "You know they were all in the same dojo, right? Before-hand. Kondou and Hijikata and Okita and a couple of others. That's where Ten'nen Rishin Ryuu came from."

Takamori was listening politely to Hana, nodding and making noncommittal affirmative noises.

"That's their sword style," Hana added, and then launched into a description of their signature moves.

Yuriko took a bite of her braised eggplant, savoring the rich flavor. Kenshin had really outdone himself tonight, she thought, smiling affectionately in his direction. He was chewing thoughtfully, his eyes down while Hana chattered on.

She watched Kenshin's face for a little while. He didn't seem to be listening to Hana's monologue. Yuriko's lips twitched into a small smile. It was probably for the best. She hadn't been trying to follow it either. If she had, her brain would probably have started to dribble out through her ears by now.

"And then during the Boshin war, right, Hijikata just wouldn't give up!" Hana was saying, gesturing animatedly with her chopsticks in one hand. "He kept fighting even though he knew it was totally hopeless! He said it would look bad for everybody to just surrender, and for nobody to keep fighting for the Shogun. It was the most heroic thing ever!"

"...No."

"What?" Hana looked round, startled.

Kenshin had spoken, a single soft word. He shifted a little in his chair, eyes still on the table.

"Hijikata Toshizou threw away his life. In the end he didn't die for Japan. He didn't die for the people. He died for the honor of Tokugawa."

"But as a samurai--"

"It was needless. Tokugawa had surrendered a full year before. The war should have been over." Kenshin paused for a little while and moistened his lips, still not looking up. "I think Hijikata forgot what he was fighting for, that I do," he continued softly, a kind of sadness in his voice. "Or perhaps he couldn't leave the old era behind."

"Oh." Hana looked confused. "But if he'd surrendered he would've just been thrown in jail, maybe even executed like Kondou was. Or he would've had to sell out, like Saitou."

"No." Kenshin had looked up, finally, meeting Hana's eyes. "Saitou didn't sell out. Saitou had always fought to protect Japan, even from the start. And after the revolution, that is what he continued to do, as a policeman with the new government. I... I don't agree with his methods, that I don't. But without him... Without him Japan would have suffered."

Hana was staring at him, her eyes gradually widening. "No way," she said. "Saitou _is_ your favorite!" She grinned, excited, and pointed a finger at Kenshin. "Ha! Admit it! You think he's awesome!"

Kenshin looked indignant. "Saitou Hajime is no friend of mine, that he is not."

Hana had thrown herself back in her chair, giggling into her hands, her cheeks flushed with amusement. "Okay, fine," she continued, when she'd regained control. "Deny it all you want." She winked at Kenshin. "My favorite's Okita. You probably guessed it anyway."

Kenshin sighed resignedly, sagging in his chair. Yuriko shot him a sympathetic glance, but he'd closed his eyes already.

Hana was burbling on. "He's so cool. He's so handsome!" She brandished an imaginary sword, lowering her voice theatrically. "My Kikuichi-monji feels thirsty tonight! Hah! Hah! Ha-whoa!" Her sword hand had collided with her cup, tipping tea onto the table.

Kenshin was on his feet in an instant, racing into the kitchen and returning almost immediately with a tea-towel, which he pressed onto the slowly spreading puddle before it could dribble off the edge of the table and into Hana's lap.

"Oh. Thanks, Kenshin-san." Hana smiled up at him. "Heh. Kikuichi-monji got a drink of tea."

Kenshin frowned awkwardly, wiping the table, and then righted Hana's cup and reached for the teapot. He frowned again as he lifted it, and peeked quickly under the lid.

"I'll make you some more tea, that I will, Hana-dono."

"You don't--" Hana began, reaching out to stop him, but Kenshin had already disappeared into the kitchen. There was a brief sound of running water, a few clinks of a spoon against porcelain, and then another sound of water, rising steadily in pitch as Kenshin refilled the teapot from the electric kettle.

"She didn't have to do that," Hana commented softly.

Yuriko gave the younger woman a pointed look.

"What?" Hana said defensively.

"Calm down, Hana-chan," Yuriko said.

"Fine." Hana's voice was pained and sulky, like she'd just been told what to do by an older sister.

"It'll just be a minute while this steeps, that it will," Kenshin said cheerily as he reappeared from the kitchen. He set the teapot down in the center of the table and slipped back into his chair beside Yuriko.

"Thanks, Kenshin-san," Hana said again, giving him a grateful smile. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Please, you needn't apologize, Hana-dono," Kenshin replied, smiling lightheartedly back.

Yuriko leaned towards him as Hana and Takamori went back to their food. "That was nice of you, Kenshin," she said softly.

Kenshin turned his cheery smile towards her. "It's good to have plenty of tea to drink with dinner, that it is," he replied inanely.

o-o-o

"Okay, punches. Ready? Count!"

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

Ozaki Motoko left the front of the room and walked slowly down the first column of women, checking their form, making adjustments here and there.

"Let the power come from your legs. Don't try to hold your body still."

"Yes, Sensei!"

Motoko had been teaching here at the community center every week for the past two months, ever since she'd come to Tokyo to start cram school. Her own sensei back home had made the contact. And the head instructor for Women's Defense had been more than happy to take an assistant. She'd watched Motoko teach for two sessions before giving her the beginners' class outright.

Motoko paused to watch the movements of a tiny middle-aged woman. There was a slight flail to her punches, rendering them powerless.

"No. Like this. Watch." Motoko stood beside her and demonstrated. One, two. The sleeves of her thick cotton gi made a satisfying snap with each strike. "Focus on the spot where your strike will land." One, two. "Your shoulders should move horizontally, not up and down. Go."

The woman squared her shoulders and picked up the count. "Good. Better." A little better, at least. "Focus on that spot."

Motoko walked on. Cram school was all right; it was her path to university, and she wanted a university education. She needed one, to be independent in this world. But this was where Motoko's passion was, here, in this rented community-room-turned-dojo. It was a passion driven by anger.

"Keep your stomach muscles tight. It'll give you better control. And control your breathing!"

"Yes, Sensei!"

In an ideal world there would be no need for Women's Defense. But this was not an ideal world, and Motoko knew it well. Most of these women would never need to use what they learned here. But for the others, this could save their lives.

And then there was Kenshin, she thought. The signs were there -- the quiet passivity, the extreme deference, the asymmetric application of make-up on the cheeks. She'd seen it from the start, seen the hollowness in Kenshin's eyes in that unguarded moment as Yuriko had breezed in for dinner on Sunday evening.

She'd offered her help to Yuriko, but the woman had said nothing. Did she not realize? Or did she think that she was already doing enough? She'd taken Kenshin in, at least, and Kenshin seemed quite devoted to her. But was it devotion, or was it self-sacrifice? In two days, all she'd seen Kenshin do was cook, and clean, and do laundry by hand. Kenshin may have escaped from some country village. But it took more than just leaving to get the village out of one's mind.

Motoko had heard things about the villages. There were places in Japan, even today, even four years into the twenty-first century, where marriages were still arranged in childhood, sometimes with disgusting age differences. Where women were slaves in their own homes. Where the will of the family was all.

The domination of women started with the difference in physical strength. But the true domination was in the mind. Learned helplessness, she'd heard it called. She knew the concept well. And it turned her stomach.

"Don't hold your breath," she said to the next girl in the line. "Breathe with each strike. Kiai!"

"Kiyaa?" the girl yelped.

Not quite. Motoko watched her for a few more counts, letting her get back into the rhythm. "Kiai!"

"Kyaah!" This time it was a full-bodied shout.

"Better." Motoko continued up the line, towards the front of the room.

The training here was only half physical. More important was what it created within the women's minds. The ability to project outward, rather than retreat inward. The knowledge that one needn't fear one's own limits; that in need, one could go beyond. The realization of one's own power.

"Stop!" Motoko looked around the room. The women were still again, left fists extended, all eyes on her. "Hands. Remember. In a collision, the hardest object wins. You want that to be your fist." She held up her hand, palm outward, fingers together. "Fingers first--" she curled her fingers down tightly into her palm, "--then your thumb." She folded her thumb across her knuckles. "Squeeze when you strike. And strike with these first two knuckles." She tapped her knuckles, then ran two fingers down the back of her fist and across her wrist. "The force comes from your arm, through these two bones. Keep them straight. Again. Count!"

"One! Two! Three!"

Motoko liked to tell herself that she'd gotten out as soon as she could. But she knew that wasn't true, and the knowledge made her anger burn even hotter. It had taken her three years after finishing high-school.

And for some, just getting out wasn't enough. If a woman could take a train to Tokyo, a man could easily follow her.

Motoko would have to talk to Kenshin. Tonight.

* * *

_Author's note: _

_konnichiwa - good day _


	16. In hot water

**16. In hot water **

Even with the small mishap involving Hana's tea, it had been a successful meal.

Kenshin smiled to himself as he swished the dish-sponge across a plate. The sauteed burdock had come out savory and delicious, and the eggplant from Takamori's garden had been just perfect. He'd been glad when Takamori had accepted his invitation to join them; it was only right, seeing as he'd used her vegetables. She and Hana had seemed to enjoy the meal. And afterwards, Yuriko had made a point of drawing him aside and telling him -- quietly, so the others couldn't hear -- that she'd really liked it.

Kenshin sighed as the memory brought back its warm glow.

Hana and Takamori had both offered to help with the dishes, and he'd had to shoo them into the lounge with tea before they would let him get on with it. Yuriko had slipped away somewhere too, with a vague comment that she'd only be a minute.

Kenshin scrubbed the sponge vigorously across the last of the plates, then set it aside on the edge of the sink and turned on the tap.

Yuriko was coming back now, as promised. He felt her presence a moment before she opened the kitchen's back door and turned to smile at her over his right shoulder as she stepped in from the veranda, the rubber soles of her house-slippers squeaking faintly on the tile floor.

"I'm back," she said, coming over to stand beside him at the sink. "You doing all right?" She leaned an elbow on the counter and tilted her head slightly, watching him with those familiar blue eyes. The ends of her hair hung loose across her shoulder, auburn on white.

"Fine, thanks, Kaoru," he replied, smiling up at her again as he rinsed a plate and set it on the dish-rack. Another time he might have asked her if she wouldn't go join the others for tea while he did the washing-up. But right now....

Just being in her presence was a delight, was all he could ever desire. He'd missed her during the day, more than he'd expected. Back at home Kaoru would go out on a regular basis to teach at other dojos, but she'd be gone then only for a few hours, not all day. Yuriko's modern job was demanding.

Yuriko chuckled suddenly, as if she'd just thought of something amusing. "Y'know, I think you're Hana-chan's new best friend," she commented, turning to lean the small of her back against the counter's edge. "She thinks you're a Shinsengumi fangirl now."

"Oro?" Kenshin glanced up at her, a smile on his lips but a question in his eyes. A Shinsengumi what?

"Watch out or she'll give you some embarrassing nickname next," Yuriko continued, leaning back on her elbows and looking up with a smile toward where the far wall of the kitchen met the ceiling.

"Hana-dono is a nice person, that she is," Kenshin replied, for lack of anything more substantive to say.

"Oh, and she wanted me to invite you to watch an episode with her in the lounge tomorrow night." Yuriko straightened up and turned back toward him. "Nine-thirty, she said. Apparently it's a rerun of Sunday's."

"Hm," he replied noncommittally. Once again, he felt as if he were missing some vital premise on which the conversation was based.

"Though honestly," Yuriko was saying, "I never would've guessed that you watch that series."

"Series?" He looked up at her again, at a loss. What was she talking about? This entire conversation was making very little sense to him. What was a series?

Yuriko looked at him intently, her head tilted a fraction to one side and her blue eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement.

Kenshin looked back at her blankly. Had he said something odd?

After a moment she looked away, eyes still narrowed in concentration, lips parting as if she were about to say something. As if she were trying to jog her memory.

"Shinsengumi..." she said softly.

Oh no, Kenshin thought. So that was it. She didn't-- she wouldn't remember. He tensed internally, keeping his face carefully expressionless as he turned back toward the sink. He twisted the tap and stacked the rice bowls quickly under the stream of water, then picked up the sponge again.

He'd made a mistake, talking about the Shinsengumi. Yuriko didn't know. Yuriko didn't remember. The Bakumatsu, the Boshin war, both were now far in the past. There was no way someone from this time could talk about the Shinsengumi like that unless they'd studied the history. As Hana apparently had done, with this series of hers. And he'd as much as told Yuriko just now that he hadn't done that.

He'd said too much at dinner. He should have kept quiet. There'd been no need to say what he'd said. This was a peaceful time; did it really matter now if Hana thought that Hijikata's self-sacrifice had been heroic? She wasn't about to become a warrior. She wasn't about to throw her life away.

He could feel Yuriko's eyes on him as he soaped the rice bowls, his movements just a bit too hasty to be casual.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help with that?" she asked. "You did do all the cooking."

"Oh, no, there's no need for that, Kaoru," Kenshin replied, relieved at the change of subject. "You were out all day at work, that you were. You must be tired." He took a short breath as a thought struck him. "Oh--"

When Kaoru came home from teaching at another dojo, what she always wanted was a hot bath and dinner. He'd made dinner, but he'd forgotten the bath. And he'd made the same mistake yesterday as well. She hadn't seemed to have expected him to do it, but still... He hurriedly set the last of the bowls onto the dish rack and turned off the water.

"Kaoru, I'm sorry. I forgot to heat the bath for you, that I did. If you wouldn't mind waiting, I'll just go out and--"

"No, no," she said, catching him by the arm. "I just turned it on. For you." She smiled at him shyly. "You've been doing a lot, Kenshin. You need a nice hot soak."

o-o-o

It had been weeks since he'd had a proper bath.

Kenshin eased himself slowly into the water, letting his body adapt to the heat one inch at a time. It sang across his skin, almost scalding until his nerves adjusted, and then surrounding him in a close intensity that brought every bit of him alive.

A month ago he'd finally broken down and gone to a public bath. It had been wonderful. They'd even washed and dried his clothes for him. He'd had to forgo lunch for the next few days -- public baths had never been cheap, not with the fortune's worth of firewood that they went through every day -- but it had been well worth it. That week of rain in early June had left him feeling cold and damp and chronically miserable, and he'd known that he'd be in trouble if he let himself get sick. Now, the option of a hot bath every single night seemed almost too good to be true.

Sunday night he'd been far too tired for anything but a quick scrub, and had turned down Yuriko's offer without really thinking about it. Yesterday evening he'd still felt a little strange after his inadvertent sunbathing session up on the roof, and he'd figured that a hot soak might not be the best idea. But tonight... Tonight, when Yuriko had offered he'd accepted enthusiastically.

The day had been sweltering hot again and the evening was still cloying, so he'd washed with cool water in anticipation before coming out here to the free-standing furo on the veranda. Yuriko had met him beside the bath, helping him heft the wooden lid off the top of the tub and lean it against the wall of the house. Then she'd gone back inside to do something, leaving him to slip out of his borrowed yukata in the darkness and relative quiet of a city evening.

Kenshin slid down the last few inches, feeling the water close over his shoulders. He leaned the back of his head against the edge of the tub and sighed contentedly, gazing out into the warm darkness of the garden sheltered between the building's arms. The evening's fingernail-thin crescent of a moon had sunk already behind the west wing of the old hotel, leaving only starlight to pick out the small trees and shrubs in the formal garden and to outline the roof of the building in faint silver. The whine of the cicadas had been replaced by the rhythmic chirping of crickets, mingled now with the sound of violin music drifting down from one of Yuriko's housemates' windows.

He let a small smile settle onto his face. It had been a long and tiring day. He'd taken care to get up early enough this morning that he'd have time to assemble a bento lunch and cook a proper breakfast for Yuriko. After she'd left for work he'd been busy again all day, gardening and cleaning and shopping for groceries, then cooking again for dinner and washing up afterwards. There was really a lot to do here, wasn't there.

The heat was soaking into his muscles, unknotting tension that he hadn't realized was there. He had been far too busy today to relax. Had kept himself far too busy.

Kenshin shifted in the water, the motion sending new waves of heat across his skin. To be honest, he hadn't really needed to clean all the floors. Back at the Kamiya dojo that had been the students' responsibility; here, it had mainly been an excuse to keep himself moving. An excuse to keep himself from having too much time to think.

Yesterday morning, Yuriko had still been an enigma to him. He hadn't known how much was memory and how much was instinct. But now...

He swished an arm through the water, watching the small dips and eddies that played across the dark surface in response. Deep currents, moving beneath the surface.

Now, he was starting to fear that it was all instinct. Patterns of behavior; subconscious memories that never quite broke through into awareness.

She had recognized him. She had known his name. She had caught him, had held him tightly, had taken him home with her. But aside from that, aside from the occasional flash of familiarity, aside from Kaoru's eyes and Kaoru's smile...

Did Yuriko really remember anything at all?

Kenshin sighed, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head on the lip of the tub again. This was the question that he'd been avoiding all day. Because if Yuriko truly remembered nothing from Kaoru's life, he had no idea what he should do next.

Should he just keep doing what he was doing, living one hour at a time and seeing what happened, hoping that the issue would resolve itself? Or was that just a cowardly way of avoiding the problem? And if she truly didn't remember, did he have any right to the intimacy of calling her Kaoru?

Should he go?

The thought made him cold. Kenshin opened his eyes and sat up, curling forward and hunching his shoulders under the hot water, knees folded up against his chest.

No, he thought. He definitely shouldn't go. Yuriko wanted him to stay. _Don't disappear_, her note had said. And how did he know what she remembered or not? He oughtn't make assumptions like that, not when they hadn't even spoken of such things. They hadn't spoken about the past yet. They hadn't spoken about much at all, really, aside from the trivialities of life.

He could live in the present if he needed to. He'd spent a good fraction of his life being more than happy to do just that. But he'd been a rurouni then, with no home and no family. He wrapped his arms around his knees and ducked his head, letting his wet hair fall forward across either side of his face. He'd had a home for ten years now, and a family too. He'd learned at last that the present is only one short moment in the vastness of time, and that time goes on and on.

Time had gone on, without him.

Kenshin took a careful breath past the sudden constriction in his throat and straightened up again, blinking away the prickling in his eyes. He had to be strong, for Kaoru's sake. He had to keep going, to keep on doing what he was doing. Yuriko wanted him to stay, and for now that had to be enough. After all, he'd only found her the day before yesterday, and she'd had commitments, commitments to her housemates and to her work. There would be more time, more opportunities to talk, and then he could start to learn how much she really remembered.

And maybe, he could help her to remember more. He smiled a little, gazing out into the warm darkness. He just needed more time. He would keep doing what he was doing, because that way there could be more time.

He just wondered how long he'd be able to maintain this deception, dressing as a girl and sleeping in a women's apartment house. He cast a worried frown up at his borrowed yukata and towel, a ghost of light-colored fabric hanging on a hook on the nearest of the support posts at the edge of the veranda. One or another of Yuriko's housemates would surely see through the ruse sooner or later. Hana had wanted to chat with him about the Shinsengumi. And Motoko seemed to have taken a rather worrying interest in him, that first evening and yesterday as well.

No matter, he thought; worrying about it was not going to help the situation. Kenshin let the twinge of anxiety seep away into the hot water with the last of the tension in his body. He felt calm and relaxed and heated through. The bath had done its magic, and it was hard to worry about such things in this state. He only hoped he wouldn't be too sleepy to talk with Yuriko tonight. He shifted his legs in the hot water, getting his feet under him, preparing to straighten up.

A door on the west wing of the building scraped open and Kenshin jerked his head around, localizing the sound to the sliding door from the bathroom even before his eyes picked out the white-clad figure in the doorway.

Not Yuriko.

He scrunched back down into the water, fingers gripping the edge of the furo in front of his chin.

It was Motoko. Coming this way. In a yukata, with her hair wrapped up in a white towel on top of her head. Coming toward the bath.

Kenshin's eyes were adapted to starlight, and hers weren't. She hadn't seen him yet. If he was quick enough--

"Kenshin-san. I was wondering where you were."

Too late. Kenshin cast a despairing glance toward his borrowed towel and yukata, hanging just out of arm's reach on their hook at the edge of the veranda.

o-o-o

This was perfect.

Ozaki Motoko had headed straight for the shower when she'd returned from the community center, feeling too sweaty and gritty to hold a decent conversation. There had been lights on in the lounge; she'd glanced in as she walked past the doorway and seen Takamori and Hana sitting together and drinking tea. She'd worried then that by showering she would lose too much time, would miss her chance to talk to Kenshin.

But this-- this was perfect. An opportunity to talk, alone. Motoko started forward purposefully, staring intently into the darkness, her eyes on the faint outline of Kenshin's hair.

o-o-o

"M-Motoko-dono," Kenshin said. She was coming slowly forward along the veranda, her gray eyes held wide as if to collect more light. The shadows were thick here under the eaves, made darker by contrast with the sharp-edged swath of yellow light that spilled from the back windows of the foyer away to Kenshin's left.

"Good evening," he added belatedly. She must have come out here for a bath. A natural thing to do. He shouldn't have stayed out here so long. He shifted his hands on the edge of the furo, scrunching forward further to hide himself against the inner curve of the wood, and rested his chin lightly on his fingers. The water steamed gently, hot around his body.

"Good evening." Motoko returned the greeting. She had come around the inner corner of the veranda and stopped a few feet away from the furo, still peering into the darkness in his general direction.

At least she couldn't see him very well, Kenshin thought frantically. His hair was down, his face was washed clean of Yuriko's powder, and worst of all he was stark naked in this bath. One of Yuriko's housemates was bound to see through his deception sooner or later....

"Kenshin-san, I've been wanting to talk to you," Motoko said. Her face was serious, her thin black eyebrows set in a stern line. She took another uncertain step forward and reached out with her left arm, running her hand along the wall of the house.

"Mm," Kenshin replied nervously. How could he get her to go away? How could he get out of this? He shot another desperate glance toward his yukata. His heart had started to race, and suddenly the bath felt very hot indeed.

Motoko hesitated for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts, then turned toward him again, letting her arm drop to her side. "I want... I want you to be safe here," she said slowly. "If you're in any kind of danger, I want you to be able to tell me. I can protect you." She gestured at herself, her gaze level and direct.

Kenshin blinked, surprised. This was not what he had expected at all. What was she getting at? How could he possibly need protecting? It wasn't as if his old enemies were lurking out there in the darkness among the trees. If anything, he should be protecting the people here, protecting their happiness. Not just Yuriko, but all of them. And a fine mess he was making of it too, dressing as a girl and sleeping in a women's apartment house, having to sneak out through the window in order to take his sword with him to the market. This was going to end in disaster; he knew it. He sighed and sagged a little in the water. At least she couldn't see him very well in this darkness.

Motoko had turned back toward the wall of the house again, feeling along it with a hand. "Now where..." she muttered. "--Ah."

There was a small click, and the area was flooded with a sudden yellow brilliance. Kenshin flinched, suppressing the impulse to cover his eyes, and squinted quickly upward at the source of the light. A circular fluorescent tube was burning in the eaves above the furo. It seared a purple ring into the center of his field of vision, and Kenshin winced, blinking rapidly.

"That's better," Motoko said, turning back toward him. "Now, you--" She faltered, eyes going wide and shock freezing on her face. She was staring at him.

That was it, then, Kenshin thought, dismay giving way to despair. His shoulders sagged under the hot water. He wondered idly if Motoko would scream or if she would hit him first.

But Motoko was still staring at him. Staring at his face.


	17. Truth, lies and consequences

**17. Truth, lies and consequences **

Motoko had seen things. Things that made her angry. Things that made her want to fight. But she'd never seen anything like this.

The scar lay large and livid across Kenshin's cheek, two long perpendicular slashes, crossed in the middle. Distinctive. Indelible.

Motoko had heard things about the villages. About the places in Japan where marriages were still arranged in childhood, where women were slaves in their own homes, where the will of the family was all. But she had never heard anything like this.

She felt suddenly sick. Kenshin had been _marked_.

o-o-o

She was staring at his cross-shaped scar, Kenshin realized with a shock. He twitched his head to the side, raising a hand self-consciously toward his left cheek.

"I'm sorry!" Motoko said suddenly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." She had averted her eyes, looking down toward where the floorboards of the veranda met the wall of the house, her face contrite.

She wasn't screaming. She wasn't hitting him. Kenshin watched her for a moment, fingers hovering uncertainly beside his cheek. Motoko was trembling, ever so slightly.

"Motoko-dono?" Kenshin said, concern creeping into his voice. His scar had shocked her. Not a shock of recognition; something different. "Motoko-dono, it's all right, that it is," he said again, gently. "It doesn't bother me if you look."

She looked up, tentatively, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I'm so sorry," she said again, but there was no guilty smile on her lips, and it sounded more like a condolence than an apology. After a few moments she gave him an uncertain smile and stepped closer again.

Kenshin startled and scrunched forward again against the smooth wooden wall of the furo, kicking himself mentally. He'd had a chance. He'd had a perfect chance, and he'd let it go. He could have asked Motoko to turn around, to look away while he stepped out of the bath. He felt wrung-out and breathless. The pads of his fingers were already all wrinkly, and now the heat was starting to make him dizzy.

"You're safe here, okay?" Motoko was saying. "Safe. _That_ doesn't mean anything here." She had pointed discreetly at his scar, just for a moment, before flicking her hand away again as if it bothered her deeply.

Kenshin blinked at her distractedly. Why was she going on about being safe? His head swam and he took an unsteady breath. He had to think of something. He had to get out of this bath.

o-o-o

"If you want to talk to the police or, or a doctor, just let me know," Motoko continued, her words spilling out rapidly now. Her heart was beating fast. This was the first time she'd done something like this. It felt dangerous. But it also felt good. "I can set it up for you. Confidentially, too. No one else has to know. Just say the word, okay, Kenshin-san?"

Here was someone she could help. Here was someone she could protect. Right here, in her own apartment house.

Motoko took another step toward the furo. Kenshin looked disturbed, unsteady, clinging to the edge of the tub with both hands and breathing rapidly. It was no surprise, Motoko thought. This must be a shock, this sudden offer of help. This sudden chance at freedom.

A thrill went through her. Finally, she had a chance to be a hero.

"What--?" Kenshin tensed abruptly, violet eyes sharpening into the thick darkness at the back of the garden.

Motoko startled, a thrill of danger and a sudden aggression colliding inside her. "What is it?" she barked urgently, whirling around to stare hard into the blackness.

_If a woman could take a train to Tokyo, a man could follow her...._

She clenched her fists and stepped rapidly forward, around the inner corner of the veranda and away from the light, eyes straining for any hint of motion in the darkness.

There was a sudden sloshing noise behind her. Motoko glanced back quickly over her shoulder, lips parting in surprise.

Kenshin was standing beside the furo, already wrapped in a striped cotton yukata, knotting the cord at the waist and smiling guiltily at her.

o-o-o

It had worked. Motoko had looked away just long enough.

"Sorry, Motoko-dono," Kenshin said, the initial rush of relief giving way to guilt and to a strange cold brightness that welled up behind his eyes. "I think... I was mistaken..."

And then the furo swung up and hit him in the head.

"Kenshin-san?"

It hurt. It hurt, and he felt _awful_, sick and dizzy and smothered in darkness. Kenshin shifted one hand from its awkward splayed grip on the floorboards to clutch at the right side of his head.

"Kenshin-san!"

Someone was yelling at him. Kenshin opened his eyes, blinking at the confusion of yellow light and blackness and trying to get his breathing back under control. The world was still rotating around him, the floorboards rocking as if he were on a boat. He'd never had good luck with boats.

"Kenshin-san, are you all right?"

Motoko was leaning over him, close enough that he couldn't breathe, and the thin cotton yukata was sticking to his wet skin. Panic shot through him. He couldn't let her see, he couldn't let her find out! Lying on the floor in a wet yukata he was in much more danger of discovery than he'd been in the bath. A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched away from it, curling into a tight ball.

"No!" he shrieked. "I'm fine! Don't touch me!"

o-o-o

Yuriko was just reaching for the knob of the glass-paned back door of the foyer when she heard Kenshin's shout. She yanked the door open and bolted out onto the veranda, her heart in her throat. His voice had been shrill with panic.

"Kensh--"

He was curled up on the floorboards beside the furo, hands covering his head as if to shield himself from a blow, and Motoko was on her knees leaning over him.

"Motoko-san! What are you doing!"

The younger woman shot to her feet, backing quickly away as if trying to distance herself from something she'd broken.

Yuriko rushed forward. She shouldn't have left him. She should've stayed here to look out for him. She'd only gone up to her room for a little while to go through her mail and check the due dates on her library books.

"I didn't do anything!" Motoko was saying, defensively. She reached up distractedly to try to stop the towel around her hair from coming unwound.

Yuriko crouched beside Kenshin's tightly curled form and reached out a tentative hand. "Kenshin?" she said gently. He'd started moving already at the sound of her voice; now he lifted his head, pushing himself up unsteadily onto his hands and knees. He must have pulled the yukata on in a hurry; his hair was lying in a sodden mass across his back underneath the thin fabric, rapidly soaking it through.

"She hit her head on the furo," Motoko was saying. "I didn't-- it wasn't my fault. She must've stayed in the bath too long..."

"Kaoru," Kenshin said faintly, looking up at her with a strained smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, that I didn't..." He'd managed to get up onto his knees, glancing down at the state of his yukata.

"You're soaking wet," Yuriko said. She jumped up to snatch Kenshin's towel off the hook and wrapped it around his shoulders, steadying him for a moment before helping him to his feet.

o-o-o

Kenshin shot a nervous glance back over his shoulder as Yuriko pulled him upright. Motoko was hovering a few yards away, a hand over her mouth and her gray eyes wide with shock. The towel hung half unwound from her hair.

Kenshin looked away, closing his eyes briefly as a look of pain flitted across his face. It wasn't due to his throbbing head. He had surely ruined Motoko's evening.

"Kaoru, I need to talk to you, that I do," he said softly, tugging at his damp yukata and trying to wrap it more tightly around himself. The thin fabric had gone semitransparent where it clung wetly to his skin. He was suddenly very glad of the towel, and of Yuriko standing solid beside him.

"Of course," Yuriko replied, then turned to Motoko. "Motoko-san, I'll look after her," she said, rather coldly. "I'm sorry for the trouble." Then she turned purposefully back toward the foyer door.

Kenshin swayed a little with the first step and she steadied him, catching hold of his hand. The strangeness of it hit him suddenly. Her hand was larger than it should be, the palm soft and uncallused.

"Let's go up to my room," she was saying. "How's your head? Do you need to lie down?" Her voice was wrong, too, and she was too tall, the angle of their clasped hands just far enough off to feel unnatural.

"It's fine," he replied briefly, trying to shake off the disorientation.

He'd been so stupid, he thought as they entered the house, the weathered texture of the veranda changing to glossy smoothness under his bare feet. Stupid to panic like that when Motoko touched him. Stupid to jump out of the bath so quickly when he already felt faint from the hot water. Stupid to stay in the bath so long in the first place. Stupid to hang his yukata just out of reach, stupid to forget that there was always a chance of someone other than Yuriko coming out onto the veranda.

The carpeting on the stairs was springy under the soles of his feet. His head still hurt like hell where he'd whacked it, but the relative coolness of the indoor air combined with his sodden yukata had sucked the heat out of his skin, taking most of the dizziness with it. He dried his face with a corner of the towel and hurried up the last few steps to avoid falling behind.

Yuriko paused on the landing to glance over at him, concern in her blue eyes. She reached out again to take his hand to lead him down the second-floor hallway toward her room.

So much about her might be wrong, Kenshin thought, but those concerned eyes were all too familiar.

"Kaoru," he said, giving her hand a little squeeze, "I'm all right now. You really needn't worry. I just stayed in the bath a little too long, that I did. It was silly of me. I'm fine now, that I am."

She turned back toward him and held his eyes for a moment, searching his face, a small frown of doubt on her lips.

Kenshin sighed. She deserved the truth. "My head hurts a little, that it does, but it's not serious," he added. It was a good thing he hadn't broken the skin, he thought as he saw her relax. She would have been much more worried if there'd been blood all over the place. Not to mention how Motoko might have reacted.

"Thank goodness," Yuriko said, smiling at last. She slid open the door to her bedroom and led him inside.

"Let's get you out of that wet yukata," she said briskly, turning away from him to slide open one of the double doors to her closet. "Here; you can wear my other one." She pulled out a hastily wadded bundle of pastel cloth from the top of her folded futon and shook it out, then eyed him for a moment. "You'd better dry your hair first, though."

Kenshin turned away, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment as he pulled the towel off of his shoulders and reached up to scoop his wet hair out of the back of the yukata. He slung it over his shoulder and began toweling it vigorously.

He could feel Yuriko's eyes on him as he rubbed at his head, and they brought a faint blush to his cheeks. He really oughtn't undress in front of her. Even standing here in a soaked yukata was probably pushing it too far. Yes, he and Kaoru had been married for almost ten years; yes, they'd had a child together; but this was Yuriko, and until he knew how much she actually remembered...

He looked up at her shyly. "Could you...?" he said as she reached for the towel and offered him her yukata.

"Huh? Oh. Sure."

Kenshin caught a glimpse of her smile as she turned away. He shrugged quickly out of the wet yukata and slipped into Yuriko's dry one.

"Done?" Yuriko asked, peeking over her shoulder even before she'd gotten a reply. "Great." She paused, giving him a searching look. "Are you sure you're...?"

Kenshin widened his eyes innocently.

"...Never mind," she finished. She took the wet yukata from him and hooked it over one of the pegs to the right of the door, then hung his towel up beside it.

Kenshin smiled back at her fondly. He knew she'd been about to ask him if he was sure he was all right. Apparently she'd realized what his response was bound to be. And he did feel better now, really. He'd been starting to shiver in that wet yukata; it was good to be dry again.

"So," Yuriko continued, settling down cross-legged on the floor and gesturing Kenshin to the cushion in front of her desk. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Kenshin perched himself tensely on his knees on the cushion and moistened his lips, uncomfortable again. "...This," he said, gesturing vaguely at himself and then around at the house in general.

Yuriko tilted her head to one side, waiting for him to continue.

"It's... it's only a matter of time before one of them finds out, that it is," he said, shifting his eyes away from her blue gaze. His cheeks felt warm. He hoped he wasn't blushing again.

"You mean...?"

"Yes."

"Hm." She frowned and covered her mouth with her knuckles. "You're right," she admitted, after a little while. "It's really awkward, isn't it."

Kenshin watched her silently. She had her fist over her mouth, her eyes on the tatami floor, her face intent as she thought. "What can we do?" she said softly, as if to herself.

She would think of something, Kenshin told himself. He was way out of his depth here, and had little to no understanding of the customs and taboos of this new era. Yuriko understood the situation far better, and Kaoru had always been smart about this kind of thing. She would think of something.

"You're right," she said again, looking up at him. Her face was serious. "It was an awful idea. It was just... it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted you to be able to stay, and it was the first thing I thought of." She paused and smiled at him, embarrassed. "It was pretty silly, wasn't it."

She glanced away again, and when she continued her voice was low. "But it's done now. I mean, I could've introduced you as yourself. You might've had to sleep somewhere else but at least you could've visited. Now..." The inside corners of her eyes had drawn upwards, as if she were about to cry. "I was so stupid," she whispered, and pressed her knuckles to her mouth again.

"Kaoru, no, it's all right," Kenshin said, slipping quickly off the cushion and kneeling in front of her to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Please don't blame yourself. It's my fault, that it is; I should have said something."

"You did say something," she said, dropping her hands into her lap. "You said you didn't think it was a good idea. I just didn't listen." Her voice was throaty, as if she were trying not to sob.

Kenshin bit his lip, not knowing what to say. She wasn't looking at him; instead her eyes were fixed on her hands, clutched tightly together in her lap. He stroked her shoulder lightly, for want of anything better to do.

Yuriko swallowed. "I was thinking too much about the present," she said softly. "I didn't stop to think about the future." She cleared her throat and raised her eyes to look at him, smiling a watery smile. "Don't worry, Kenshin. We'll think of something."

o-o-o

Ozaki Motoko stood beside the furo, towel in one hand, her dark hair hanging lank and damp down her back. Her other hand was still pressed over her mouth.

She had told Yuriko it wasn't her fault. She had only wanted to help. Instead, she had made things worse.

Kenshin had stayed in the bath too long because she had been there. She realized it now, and it meant two things. First, that it _had_ been her fault. And second, that there was something Kenshin hadn't wanted her to see -- something beyond even the scar.

Motoko's eyes narrowed.

o-o-o

Thirty miles south, in Kamakura, Takizawa Sae switched off her vacuum cleaner and bent down to see what was making it sound so funny. A small gray flip-phone was dangling from the bottom of the machine, its pink silk charm cord caught in the rollers.

It wasn't Sae's phone. Her phone was on the kitchen counter, plugged into its charger. "Whose...?" she muttered, leaning down to grasp the phone and yank it free. She straightened up, looking at it thoughtfully. The little plastic tanuki dangling at the end of the cord seemed relatively unscathed. She flipped the phone open, but its battery had gone dead.

Sae frowned, twiddling the charm cord absently with one finger. That tanuki charm did look rather familiar....

"Ah!" Of course. The phone was Yuriko's. She'd noticed the fat little tanuki charm on it a couple of years ago, when her older cousin had gotten the new handset. She remembered being silently amused at the time by its incongruous cuteness. Sae herself would happily have put such a charm on her own phone -- in fact, her phone currently sported a cord with three little yellow plastic ducks on it -- but it had seemed funny for someone as serious and mature as Yuriko.

And the memory was clear now, from Sunday afternoon: Yuriko had reached into her shoulder-bag, had pulled out her phone, had started to make a call and then stopped. She must have dropped it, or set it down on the floor and forgotten about it in all the excitement.

Well then, Sae thought. She'd be going out shopping after work tomorrow; it would be easy enough to swing by the post office and mail the thing back to Yuriko. She set the phone down on her coffee table and switched the vacuum cleaner back on.

o-o-o

"I'll be right back, okay, Kenshin?" Yuriko said, then slid her bedroom door shut and hurried down the hall. Kenshin had made tea for her yesterday evening, and it had been very nice. Now, she could make tea for him.

They had sat together in her room and talked about other things. Kenshin had steered the conversation away from the cross-dressing dilemma, asking her about her day. So she'd told him about work, about the behind-the-scenes organization that went into running the university, about room assignments and graduation requirements and office politics. It had distracted her. It had cheered her up. She'd realized it midway through, and she'd admired him for it.

It would be all right, she thought as she descended the stairs. Somehow it would be all right. They would think of something. She breezed through the doorway into the dining room and almost ran into Motoko.

"Yuriko-san!" The younger woman had bolted up from her chair at the textbook-strewn dinner table. "Please, I need to talk to you."

Yuriko took a breath and held it for a moment, then let it out through her nose, exasperated. Motoko was the last person she wanted to talk to just now. "Fine," she said tersely. "I'm going to make some tea, all right?"

Motoko trailed her into the kitchen. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I was only trying to help. I didn't mean for Kenshin-san to get hurt."

Yuriko crossed to the counter to check the water level in the electric kettle. Good -- it was hovering around a liter and a half, and the temperature indicator light was green. It was a good thing Takamori hadn't shut it off yet; it was almost nine already. She must have seen that Motoko was still around, settling in to her nightly round of studying, and left the kettle on for her.

Yuriko turned back to the other girl with a sigh. Motoko didn't deserve her anger.

"I'm sorry too, Motoko-san," Yuriko said softly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Motoko shook her head, her straight-cut bangs swinging above contrite eyes. "It's my fault she stayed in there so long. She didn't want to get out in front of me. I... I hadn't realized."

Ah. So that was what had happened. Yuriko raised her eyebrows and breathed a little sigh of sympathy for Kenshin as she reached up into the cupboard for a teapot and a pair of cups.

"She should've just asked me to turn around," Motoko was saying. "I really wouldn't have minded."

Yuriko crossed to the pantry for the tea container and spooned leaves into the pot.

"You should really take her to see a doctor," Motoko continued. "She's new here; she won't know where to go. And, you know, I don't think it's good for her to be taking long hot baths." Motoko's voice had turned hesitant, as if she were saying something awkward. "Not in her... not in her condition."

Yuriko's jaw dropped.

o-o-o

"I hate to tell you this, Kenshin," Yuriko said as she slid her bedroom door closed behind her, a black lacquered tea tray in one hand, "but Motoko-san thinks you're pregnant."

_"Ororo?"_


	18. The perfect woman

**18. The perfect woman **

It was another beautiful day. Kenshin hummed cheerily to himself as he skipped down the stairs, clad in another of Yuriko's seemingly endless supply of white blouses and a long blue sleeveless garment that wrapped around in the front like a kimono and hung to his ankles. The clothes were unfamiliar and a bit too large, but aside from the fact that he couldn't carry his sword effectively, they had stopped bothering him. They just didn't seem particularly feminine to him. Even the plaid skirt that Yuriko had given him to wear the day before was like nothing so much as an undivided hakama. It seemed a miracle that her housemates still thought he was female.

He'd gotten up early again, a good night's sleep having transmuted the anxiety of the previous evening into a healthy caution. It was clearly only a matter of time before one of Yuriko's housemates saw through the deception. But no matter what he might think of all this, discovery would be a disaster for Yuriko. She may have told the initial lie to her housemates, but it was Kenshin's duty to preserve the illusion until Yuriko could work out a solution. And so he'd swallowed his pride and put on that pink lip-gloss this morning. He'd considered leaving his hair down, as Yuriko had had him do that first evening, but he'd be cooking this morning and he knew it would be an unruly mess within half an hour. And so he'd tied it back as usual, but not before giving it a vigorous brushing and pinning his bangs firmly to one side.

He had started sweating almost immediately in the unfamiliar clothes. The weather had stayed hot and humid through the night, especially up on the second floor of the building, and even with scattered clouds dimming the rising sun from time to time the new day promised to turn into another scorcher.

Nevertheless, Kenshin thought, it was a beautiful day. Things always looked better by the light of morning. He stepped off the lowest stair and crossed the foyer toward the dining room, then stopped dead in the doorway.

Motoko was asleep in one of the dining room chairs, her head pillowed on an open book amidst the sea of papers that covered one end of the table.

Kenshin backed rapidly away, his breath caught in his throat. Motoko was in the dining room! After last night, she was the last person he wanted to run into. He'd made such a fool of himself in the furo, and then afterwards, freaking out like that. 'No, I'm fine, don't touch me'? How was that supposed to have reassured her? And then Yuriko had told him that Motoko thought he was.... He couldn't even think it without his ears going hot.

At least he hadn't woken her up. He leaned against the far railing of the stairs, the dark heavy wood screening him from the dining room doorway. Motoko was in the dining room, but he needed to cook breakfast and put together a bento lunch for Yuriko. Kenshin frowned, considering. There was a door between the dining room and the kitchen, and it had been ajar just now when he'd glanced in. If he closed it, he could probably do his cooking quietly enough that Motoko would stay asleep. And he could go out through the back door here and cut around along the veranda to get to the kitchen without walking through the dining room. It should be safe.

Kenshin stepped away from the railing, and then hesitated. Motoko had been wearing only her yukata, and she'd had no blanket. That wasn't good; she could catch a cold sleeping like that. Kenshin shifted from one foot to the other, conflicted. Right now he wanted to stay as far away from Motoko as possible. But he couldn't leave her sleeping there without a blanket.

It was an easy decision. Kenshin turned and ran lightly back up the stairs, returning shortly with the quilt from his own futon. Consequences be damned; his own feelings didn't matter. Motoko had to have a blanket. He crept down the last few steps and across the foyer floor, his stockinged footsteps silent as a cat's, and hesitated again in the doorway.

Motoko's face was turned towards him. If anything woke her, she would see him immediately. And he had a sudden sense that there was something dangerous about this woman. He couldn't explain it -- something about last night, combined with the first time he'd felt her eyes on him right here in the foyer three days previously. It was instinct more than anything, but Kenshin had always trusted his instincts.

Nevertheless, Motoko needed a blanket. Kenshin took a last deep breath and let it out silently, then started forward. He stepped slowly, carefully, his breathing shallow and silent, filling his mind with light, trivial thoughts to mask his ki.

Motoko didn't stir. He was beside her now; he could hear her breathing, could see her individual eyelashes. He lifted the quilt carefully, his hands steady, and lowered it slowly between Motoko and the back of her chair. He paused for a moment, lifted his elbows to get the angle right, and settled the quilt gently around her shoulders. Again, she didn't stir; her breathing remained deep and even.

It wasn't over yet. Kenshin straightened up carefully and slipped like a ghost across the remainder of the dining room, his footsteps slow and silent. He reached out carefully and grasped the light-switch near the kitchen door between his thumb and forefinger -- Motoko had fallen asleep with the light on -- and toggled it carefully into the 'off' position. The lights flicked out, leaving the room bathed in the soft blue light of early morning. Kenshin turned his body sideways and eased himself through the half-closed kitchen door without touching it. Then he pressed his back against the wall, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

He'd done it. Kenshin opened his eyes again and smiled triumphantly. And now, for breakfast. He laid steady hands on the kitchen door and eased it shut, turning the knob carefully to latch it without a sound. It was a good thing the kitchen door didn't squeak; a part of his mind had noted that already on Monday afternoon and filed the information away for future reference, in the same way that he'd already learned subconsciously which parts of the floor creaked when stepped on and which didn't. Now, he'd only have to remember not to hum to himself while cooking.

o-o-o

She'd had that dream again, the one where she was trying to get to an exam and one thing after another was slowing her down, everything conspiring to make her late.

Ozaki Motoko stirred and opened her eyes, groaning at the lingering taste of frustration that the dream had left behind. She lifted her cheek off the book and winced at the crick in her neck and the soreness in her back and shoulders.

Bright daylight was streaming in through the dining room windows, and she could hear the _tok-tok-tok_ of someone cutting vegetables beyond the kitchen door. Probably Takamori making lunch. Motoko blinked at the light and waved her elbows around, trying to work the stiffness out of her shoulders. The quilt that had been wrapped around her slid down her back and bunched up behind her on the chair.

Motoko pushed her hair back from her face and scrubbed at her sticky eyes. She'd fallen asleep studying and dreamed that annoying dream again.

The one about being late.

To an exam.

Motoko blinked again at her books and papers, at the daylight streaming in through the windows.

_Oh crap oh crap oh CRAP--_

o-o-o

Kenshin felt the flare of panicked ki from the other side of the door and had just enough time to whirl around before it banged open.

"What time is it?" Motoko shouted as she stumbled in, clutching the doorknob breathlessly, her hair disheveled and her gray eyes wide with alarm. There were pink creases pressed into her cheek and jaw from the edge of the book she'd been lying on.

"I-it's about ten minutes past six, Motoko-dono," Kenshin stammered, his back against the counter and a large daikon clutched defensively in front of him.

"Ten past... ten past six," Motoko repeated. She stepped away from the door and straightened her yukata, the panic slowly draining from her face to be replaced by puzzlement. "Ten past _six?_" she asked incredulously. "I don't even have to be up 'til eight forty-five." She pressed her hands over her face. "Ugh."

Maybe she'd go away, Kenshin thought. Maybe she'd go up to her room and go back to sleep. He kept still, watching Motoko warily.

She lifted her face out of her hands, her eyebrows quirked in sudden puzzlement.

"Kenshin-san?" She looked over at him. "Why are you up so early?"

To his extreme embarrassment, Kenshin felt himself starting to blush.

"I'm just doing some cooking, that I am," he blustered, turning briskly back toward the cabinets and grabbing down an empty teapot to cover his discomfiture. "Would you like some tea, Motoko-dono?" He whisked the teapot over to the pantry and pulled open the door, rummaging for a container of tea leaves. "The electric kettle's already finished heating, that it has, and I was just about to make a pot." He smiled at her, hoping the panic wouldn't show through.

"Cooking?" Motoko's gaze had become piercing.

Kenshin's ears were burning now. _Why_, he asked himself. Why did Motoko make him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin? He was reading messages in her ki that simply made no sense. _And she thinks I'm..._

_Don't think about that._ "Things for Kaoru's bento, and then breakfast," he said hurriedly, fingers tightening on the bamboo handle of the teapot. "She gets up at seven, that she does, and-- and--" Kenshin stumbled over his words, flustered. "Things for _Yuriko's_ bento," he amended.

Blend into the crowd, he told himself. Blend into the crowd. He wrestled his emotions under control and slapped a vacant smile onto his face. "I could make breakfast for you as well, if you like, Motoko-dono."

She should smile now, Kenshin thought, smile and accept his offer, or else decline and go upstairs to bed. But instead Motoko's ki flared with sudden anger. Her eyes narrowed and the muscles of her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth.

"You will do no such thing," Motoko ground out. Her voice was flat and very cold.

Anger? Kenshin tilted his head slightly, embarrassment forgotten. Something more was going on here. He remembered the wariness she'd triggered in him that first evening, remembered the sense of danger he'd felt seeing her asleep in the dining room. Was it this anger that underlay those impressions?

"Motoko-dono?" he said carefully. "Is something bothering you?"

"Put that down," she said, stepping purposefully forward and reaching for the teapot still clutched in Kenshin's hands. He let her take it; she plonked it down roughly onto the counter, her eyes never leaving his.

"Now. Kenshin-san." She reached out towards him, as if to catch him by the shoulders.

Kenshin stepped back abruptly, suddenly alarmed. What was Motoko doing?

"All right!" Motoko said suddenly, stopping her advance and holding up her hands, palms outward and fingers splayed, as if to show she was harmless. "All right. I'm not going to hurt you."

Kenshin's eyebrows sprang up. "Oh, no, Motoko-dono, please, you needn't worry about me--"

"Yes I do," she said in that same level tone. "I do need to worry about you."

Kenshin shook his head slightly in denial, his smile fading.

"Now go sit down in the dining room and relax," Motoko continued, her deadly tone at odds with her words. "I'm going to bring you breakfast."

_What?_ Kenshin looked back at her, confused. Maybe she hadn't understood? "But Motoko-dono, I need to finish making Yuriko's bento, that I do, and--"

"Stop acting like a slave!" Motoko shrieked suddenly, her face contorting with anger as if something had snapped inside her.

Kenshin flinched and jumped back involuntarily, running up against the far wall of the kitchen. With nowhere else to go he froze, pressing himself back against the wall. His heart had started to race.

"You cook, you clean, hell, you get up early to make bento for Yuriko-san!" She gestured furiously at the array of dishes and bowls that littered the counter. "You know I saw you, doing the laundry by hand out there. I know you cleaned the floors in here too. And I bet it was _you_ who brought me that blanket!" She jabbed Kenshin in the chest with an accusing finger. "You're the perfect woman! You're quiet, you're tidy, you're always smiling, you never think of yourself--"

"Motoko-dono, stop, please stop it!" He was cowering against the wall now, hands clenched beside his ears. It wasn't true, he told himself, it couldn't be true, it was his choice so how could he be acting like a slave? And it was for Yuriko, it was for Kaoru, he'd always done this. What else could he do?

"You stop it!" she screamed back. "It's your life! She took you in but that doesn't make you her slave! You-- You're just like--"

Motoko bit off her words and stood staring at him, momentarily incoherent, her breath hissing between clenched teeth and her face beet red. Her eyes were full of an insane fire that made Kenshin go cold all over.

"I can't watch this," she hissed finally. "You want to be a slave? Then be a slave. I can't help you if you refuse to help yourself. But I won't watch you acting like _her_." Motoko whirled away and strode out of the kitchen, banging the door shut behind her.

Kenshin stood half-crouched against the wall, frozen with shock, his eyes huge and fixed on the kitchen door. After a long moment he took a shaky breath and straightened up carefully, hands on the wall behind him for support.

He'd really done it this time, he thought as he stood there, listening to the violent sounds of Motoko gathering up her books and papers on the other side of the door. He winced with regret. He'd known Motoko was a little on edge. He'd sensed that she was a little dangerous. But never in a hundred years would he have guessed that offering to cook breakfast for her would have set her off like this.

And she was wrong. He hadn't been acting like a slave. If anything, he'd just been acting like a rurouni. When he'd first come to the Kamiya dojo, he'd cooked and cleaned for Kaoru as a way to earn his keep. She'd fed him, she'd given him a roof to sleep under; it was only right that he should pay her back in some way. Later, he'd done it because he loved her, and because a couple had to split the labor of maintaining a household. Kaoru ran the dojo; Kenshin could run the kitchen. He knew he was a bit more domestic than the average swordsman, but he enjoyed it, really.

Sure, he'd kept himself busy the past couple of days, but that was only because he had nothing else to do here. And, he admitted to himself, because this way he could avoid worrying too much about Yuriko's memories, or the lack thereof. But more importantly, Yuriko had a job and Kenshin didn't. He had to contribute somehow.

Motoko was just plain wrong, he decided. He most certainly had not been acting like a slave. A slave wouldn't have made eye contact with any of them, wouldn't have spoken without being spoken to. A slave would have been beaten for doing those things.

Kenshin sighed, rubbing at his chest where Motoko had jabbed him with her finger. Was he really the perfect woman? The thought brought the heat seeping back into his ears and made him want to squirm in his borrowed clothing.

Well, he thought, shaking his head. Embarrassing as it was, at least he was in no danger of being found out by Motoko. At least not now.

The dining room was quiet again; Motoko had either gone back up to her room or -- he stretched out his senses, felt no hint of her anger -- or had left the building entirely. He'd have to apologize, of course, although he feared that would only make her angrier.

Kenshin sighed again and crossed back over to the counter. He had to finish assembling Yuriko's bento, and then start a fresh batch of rice and some miso soup for breakfast. He flipped open the white plastic top of the rice-cooker and slid out the metal insert to clean off the starchy residue of the morning's first batch of rice. Takamori had shown him how to use the machine. He found it no easier than cooking rice in a pot, but it did free up an extra burner on the stove.

He turned on the tap and ran a little water into the cooker insert, swirling it around to wet the sides, then picked up the dish-sponge and squirted a bit of soap onto it. The metal thing had been painted inside with a fine-grained gray lacquer, smooth almost to the point of slipperiness even when dry. It made it delightfully easy to clean.

He'd really blown it with Motoko, Kenshin thought as he swished the dish sponge around the inside of the cooker insert. He'd have to steer clear of her for the next few days, have to try to avoid her around the house. And, worse, he'd now created a problem for Yuriko. He bit his lip. Even if he managed to avoid Motoko, Yuriko would still have to deal with her.

He poured a dribble of soapy water out of the rice cooker insert and turned on the tap again to rinse it. There was something else tugging at his attention, something that Motoko had said. Something that had set off a tiny alarm bell in his head. He gazed at the stream of water, replaying her words in his mind.

There. That was it. 'I won't watch you acting like _her_,' Motoko had said, just before she'd stormed out. There was someone else involved in this. Kenshin blinked at the realization, and reached out to turn off the water. Someone else, some other woman, someone whom Motoko had watched. Someone who had acted like a slave.

This was not good. Kenshin grabbed the dish towel and quickly dried the outside of the cooker insert, then slid it back into its plastic frame. He recognized what was happening. It was displacement. Motoko was worrying about him, was trying to protect him, when she should have been worrying about this other woman. This other perfect woman, who acted like a slave.

Kenshin lifted out the rice container from the cupboard under the counter and pulled off the lid. As much as he dreaded the very idea, he would have to talk to Motoko again. He scooped out a cup of rice and poured it into the cooker, then followed it with two cups of cold water from the tap. Takamori had stopped him when he'd tried to wash this rice on Monday afternoon, had told him that it was 'enriched.' Whatever that meant. He closed the lid of the rice cooker and pressed the start button.

There was a person Motoko knew who needed help. If there was any way Kenshin could provide that help, he would do it.

o-o-o

For once, the subway train wasn't crowded. It was no surprise; it wasn't even seven in the morning yet. Rush hour would come a little later. But Ozaki Motoko cared nothing for this as she sat on the molded plastic seat, her face rigid and her knuckles white on the flap of the brown leather schoolbag in her lap.

There was no way she could have gone back to sleep. There was no way she could have kept studying at the apartment house this morning, not after what had happened. She dug her fingernails into the leather, feeling like she wanted to kill something. Or someone.

The anger that smoldered inside her had been fanned into a white-hot fury. For a little while, back at the apartment house as she'd gathered up her books and papers, as she'd put on her clothes and packed her things for school, it had almost gotten out of control. She'd wanted to scream. She'd wanted to cry. Instead she'd clenched her teeth and walked out, steadily, down the road toward the subway station. She'd wrestled the inferno under control, tempered it and focused it into a cutting torch. She'd learned in these past few years how to transform her anger into power. It was what drove her forward, in her Women's Defense classes, at cram school, in her life. It was what had finally given her the guts to get out, to get away from her past and come to Tokyo. By the time she'd reached the subway station, her eyes and her heart had been steady. Motoko would not give up control. Motoko would not cry.

She'd transferred already at Ohtemachi, onto the Toudai line. She could make this journey now with her eyes closed if she'd wanted to, but she never did. It was important to pay attention. It was important to stay alert.

She'd most likely get to the school about when it opened, at seven. She could hole up in the library, get in a few hours of last-minute cramming before her English exam at ten. Her anger would not distract her. Instead, it would help her focus even harder. She needed a university education in order to be independent in this world. And to get a university education, she needed to pass the entrance exams this winter. Her anger only intensified her drive.

She would do this. She would depend on no-one. She would be nobody's slave.

Not like Kenshin.

And not like her mother.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_daikon - a large, white, mild Asian radish, often growing to a foot in length and three inches in diameter. _


	19. The meaning of home

**19. The meaning of home **

Someone was up early, Takamori Chiyoko thought as she entered the kitchen. The room was unoccupied, but from the look of the elaborate array of cooking-in-progress laid out across the counter and stove, the absence was no more than momentary. She padded across the tiles in her fluffy pink slippers and peeked under the lid of the pot steaming away gently on the stove. Miso soup, and it smelled delicious.

Takamori smiled, and turned toward the counter to start her automatic morning routine. Coffee filter from the pantry, into the filter basket of the percolator that sat on the counter opposite the sink from the rice cooker, coffee tin from the freezer, scoop out of the drawer--

Takamori paused, a scoop of ground coffee in one hand. She always had coffee at breakfast. Coffee, and toast with jam. Every day of the year. And yet...

She eyed the miso pot, and the half-assembled bento on the counter, and the bowls of pickled vegetables and seaweed and plums, and the rice cooker with only eight minutes left on its timer. Just two days ago she'd been complaining to Kenshin about these modern girls, with their curry and convini food and coffee, about how they eat too much bread and not enough rice. Takamori sighed. She knew she was a hypocrite, but toast was fast and easy, and she liked her coffee in the mornings.

Still, she wasn't getting any younger. It was time she started taking better care of herself. And perhaps if she didn't automatically brew up a big pot of coffee every morning, she could encourage her girls to drink tea instead.

She tipped the coffee grounds back into the tin and put it back into the freezer, plucked the filter out of the machine and slid it carefully back into its package. Then she opened the cupboard and took down one of the ceramic teapots.

Yes, she decided; this morning she would have tea. And not just any tea, but the good early-season stuff that her brother's wife's family had sent up from Nara that April. It was high time she drank it; it wouldn't stay fresh for much longer. And she'd offer some to whoever was doing this cooking. Kenshin, she guessed. Kenshin had offered her a second breakfast yesterday morning. A pot of good-quality tea would be the least she could offer in return.

o-o-o

"Good morning, Takamori-dono!" Kenshin called out the greeting as he nudged open the back door to the kitchen with one sock-clad foot. He'd left his zori on the ground just beside the steps up to the long raised porch, and his hands were full of cucumbers, held between awkwardly splayed fingers and the front of his blue dress.

"Kenshin dear!" Takamori beamed at him from behind her thick glasses, hurrying over towards the door in her fluffy slippers. "You're up so early! Here, let me take those cucumbers for you." She held out her hands and he let the awkward things drop into them.

"Those are for salad, that they are," Kenshin said as he ducked back out the door and retrieved the small teacup that he'd set down on the floorboards a moment before in order to have a hand free to turn the doorknob. He'd filled the little cup with a small bouquet of wild violets, picked back among the trees where he'd spotted them yesterday. Kaoru had always liked violets.

"Of course, of course!" Takamori looked delighted, her face wreathed in smiles. She'd set the cucumbers down onto the counter near the sink. "Do you want me to wash them now, or were you bringing them in for later, Kenshin dear?"

"They're for breakfast, that they are, but--"

"And you should get those violets into some water before they wilt, dear," Takamori went on, turning on the tap to rinse the cucumbers. "Here, let me, okay?" She held out a hand for the teacup and Kenshin passed it to her wordlessly.

"It's so nice to see all this cooking!" Takamori exclaimed as she filled the little cup with a gentle stream from the tap. "I got out a teapot for you, Kenshin dear. I was going to make some tea for myself anyway so I figured, why not? It's some really nice early-season sencha," she added, picking up the tea canister from the counter and holding it out for Kenshin to see. "You should try it, and Yuriko too if she's coming down."

Kenshin nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Takamori-dono." He smiled across at her. "Will you join us for breakfast? I would be honored, that I would."

"Are you sure?" Takamori replied. "That would be really lovely, Kenshin dear, thank you so much."

"Besides, they're your vegetables, Takamori-dono," Kenshin added sheepishly.

"Nonsense!" Takamori exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder. "If it weren't for your hard work, all those good veggies would be going to the rabbits out there." She opened a cabinet and pulled out a large wooden cutting board, setting it on the counter and plonking the wet cucumbers down on top. "Now how did you want these done? Thin slices? Peeled?"

"Oro? Oh, no, I can--"

"Oh, hush, Kenshin dear. The least I can do is help." She grinned at him and pulled a big knife out of one of the drawers. "So, thin slices?"

"Yes, please, Takamori-dono," Kenshin replied meekly. If she insisted on helping, who was he to refuse her? It was her kitchen, after all, Kenshin thought as he took down a small glass bowl to mix up the dressing for the cucumbers. Sesame oil and miso, he thought, with a bit of soy sauce and rice vinegar. He scooped and poured, adding a pinch of this and that.

He still felt bad about upsetting Motoko. He wished he could offer her breakfast too, but that was what had made her angry in the first place. That, and the reminder of her other perfect woman. Kenshin pulled a wire whisk out of one of the drawers and started to beat the dressing together. The vigorous whisking caught Takamori's attention.

"Ooh, fresh-made dressing even!" she exclaimed, peering across the sink at his bowl. "None of that bottled stuff this morning!"

"Mm," Kenshin replied, tilting the whisk experimentally. Still not homogeneous enough. He beat the mixture some more. He was going to have to figure out what to do about Motoko. And about the other perfect woman, who acted like a slave.

o-o-o

There were violets on the table. Yuriko sighed softly, overcome with happiness. Violets were her favorite.

Kenshin had been standing outside her room at ten minutes past seven to call her down to breakfast, just as he'd done the day before. And this time she hadn't smacked him for doing her laundry. Yuriko still felt guilty about that. It had been so unlike her.

"Good morning, Yuriko dear!" Takamori looked up from the far side of the table where she was laying out bowls and chopsticks.

"Good morning, Takamori-san!" Yuriko returned the greeting with a cheery smile. "Is there anything I can help with? Kenshin?"

"Nope," he replied, coming back out of the kitchen with a large teapot in one hand. "This is everything, that it is." He set the teapot onto the middle of the table and turned back towards her, folding his hands neatly in front of him and smiling in a way that scrunched up his eyes cutely.

Yuriko blinked, momentarily unnerved. Standing smiling like that, in her own white blouse and blue sleeveless dress, he looked disturbingly maidenly. From the look of things, he must have taken the previous night's close call to heart: he was actually wearing her lip-gloss again, and his hair was as tidy as she'd ever seen it, his bangs parted above his right eye and pinned firmly up with her little blue hairpins. She really needed to think of some way out of this situation. Still, he looked happy enough for now.

Takamori had settled in already, sitting down on the other side of the table and rubbing her hands together eagerly. Yuriko smiled again and pulled out a chair, waving Kenshin to sit beside her, then reached out for the bowl of cucumber slices.

o-o-o

Breakfast had been an unqualified success. Yuriko and Takamori had both enjoyed it, and there was plenty of food left over for any of Yuriko's housemates who might come down in the next little while. Kenshin had already spotted one of them: Aya was her name; she'd introduced herself briefly at the dinner table on his first evening here. The young woman had cast a speculative glance through the dining room doorway as she'd crossed the foyer toward the bathroom.

Kenshin stood beside the shoe well at the front door of the apartment house, holding Yuriko's bento and shoulder-bag as she buckled her shoes. Then he stepped into his own zori and followed her out onto the front porch. She didn't seem to be in as much of a rush as she'd been the previous morning, which was a relief. He certainly didn't want to make her late, or subject her to unnecessary stress. Her work seemed demanding enough as it was; the description she'd given him the previous night of her day-to-day responsibilities had been surprisingly complex.

"I hope you have a good day at work, Kaoru," he said as she took her shoulder-bag and hooked it up onto her shoulder.

Yuriko grinned and rolled her eyes. "Eh," she said. "It should be all right. Even though it's crunch time."

Kenshin smiled back and handed her the bento box. Yuriko had told him about crunch time, too. It was good that her work seemed to be engaging, he thought, even though it was so far beyond his own experience. And so different from running a dojo.

She was lingering on the porch, watching him. "So, Kenshin, what will you do today?"

He shrugged. He hadn't made a point of describing what he'd done up to now while Yuriko was at work, and she hadn't asked before now. "Takamori-dono has a nice vegetable garden in the back," he began, "though it was a bit overgrown with weeds. I cleaned it up a little yesterday, that I did, but there's still a bit more that needs to be done."

Yuriko nodded. "Don't work too hard, all right? Takamori-san won't like it if you're slaving away all day." She smiled as she said it.

Slaving away, Kenshin thought, frowning slightly. The things Motoko had said were still bothering him.

"Kaoru," he said, keeping his voice casual, as if this were just an off-hand question. "There isn't slavery any more, is there?"

"_Slavery?_" She said the word as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Of course not! Why're you asking something like that?"

Ah. Good. Kenshin nodded, relieved. "No reason; I was just wondering, that I was."

Yuriko gave him an odd look. "There hasn't been slavery since, what, since the Edo period?"

"Mm," Kenshin replied, noncommittal. The banning of slavery had been one of the fruits of the revolution, a practical manifestation of the ideal of equality. But a few of the things he'd read in the history book in the library seemed to indicate that the rule had been bent more than a little during the external wars.

And this still didn't explain Motoko's outburst. He turned his eyes to Yuriko again. "There was... there was something Motoko-dono said, earlier this morning," he said softly. "There's a person that she's worried about. She said that person acted like a slave."

"Really?" Yuriko had stepped closer to him, dropping her voice as if to avoid being overheard. "That's pretty serious for Motoko-san. She's never said anything like that to me."

Kenshin's lips flattened in disappointment. "Hm. I was hoping that maybe you knew something about it. Motoko-dono was..." He paused, uncomfortable, averting his eyes. "She was a little bit annoyed with me this morning, that she was."

"Annoyed?" Yuriko looked alarmed. "What happened?"

Kenshin shrugged awkwardly. "I think I offended her, that I do," he said with a wince. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm." Yuriko looked around at the trees, thoughtful. "Well. If I run into her this evening I can ask her about it, if you like."

"That might not be such a good idea, Kaoru," Kenshin replied. "Motoko-dono seemed a little upset about it, that she did." He paused, looking away at the trees. "More than a little," he added.

"Ooh. Well." Yuriko grimaced. "Maybe you should steer clear of her for a while then. Last night was pretty weird, if you ask me."

"Mm." Kenshin nodded, trying to relax. "I'll do that, that I will."

"Okay." She glanced at her watch. "I'd better take off. I'll be back around six, okay? See you tonight, Kenshin."

"See you tonight, Kaoru," he replied, and gave her a smile.

o-o-o

"She must really mean a lot to you," Takamori said as she sat down onto the step beside him.

He'd heard her come out through the front door a few moments ago, had caught the faint smell of vervain and cigarette smoke from her clothing, had felt her eyes on his back. It had been a soft gaze, one that hadn't made him feel uncomfortable.

Kenshin inclined his head slightly in a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. He kept his eyes on the deep greens of the trees where the road curved away to the right.

"Huh." Takamori made a small sound, almost a laugh. "It's funny; she's never even mentioned you before." Her voice was scratchy but warm.

Kenshin could see her smiling over at him, in his peripheral vision. He smiled back, obliquely, his gaze still on the trees.

"She's mentioned her other cousin a few times; Sae-chan I think her name was. But she's never mentioned you," Takamori continued. "I would've remembered a name like yours, Kenshin dear." The smile was audible in her voice. "Yuriko's a very private person, isn't she."

"Mm." Kenshin nodded again.

"You two seem so close, though. You must've spent a lot of time together."

"Yes," Kenshin replied softly. "Many years. But that was a long time ago, that it was."

"Mm," Takamori replied, her tone sympathetic. "She seems really close to Sae-chan, too. I wish I was that close to my cousins, but we never really saw each other growing up. All I've really got is one older brother, and he's in Nara now." She turned her head, looking at him sideways again. "He's a farmer, actually. Through his wife's family. Yuriko said you're from the country; is that what your parents do too?"

Kenshin said nothing, watching the brightness of the sunshine on glossy leaves, watching the way it deepened the shadows to black by contrast. Listening to the steady buzz of the cicadas in the greenery.

"He got married in 'sixty-five and moved down there," Takamori was saying. "I didn't even see him again 'til the early seventies. Thank goodness for the bullet train, eh?" She chuckled. "He came up for a week, with his wife and their two little kids. It was so funny; she was writing postcards back home every single day! She said her parents would worry otherwise. Farmers!" Takamori laughed again at the memory, then stopped as a thought struck her. "Oh! Kenshin dear, if you want to use my phone to call your parents, you're more than welcome to. I should've offered earlier, but I just didn't think of it. In case they're worried about you, all alone here in the big city."

"My parents died when I was young, that they did," Kenshin replied softly.

"Oh." Takamori paused for a moment, taken aback. "Kenshin dear, I'm so sorry." She reached out to pat his hand gently.

Kenshin shook his head. "It was a long time ago, that it was." He smiled over at Takamori, making eye contact for the first time since she'd come out. "There's no need to worry about it, Takamori-dono."

"Mm. Okay then. Well, in any case, I'm glad that Yuriko's taking good care of you, now that you're here." Takamori was quiet for a little while, her eyes following a gray squirrel as it scampered across the lawn and up the trunk of one of the oaks. "That's what I wanted to ask you about, actually, Kenshin dear," she said into the cicada-laced silence. "How long do you think you'll be staying here with us?"

Kenshin's heart sank. So that was it. He'd been here three nights already, taking up a spare room, and it wasn't even Yuriko's house.

"I'm not sure, that I'm not, Takamori-dono," he said. "It would be best to talk to Yuriko about it. If there's a problem, I can stay somewhere else, that I can."

"No, no!" Takamori shook her head vigorously, her dark curls bouncing. "There's no problem; you're not in the way, by any means! I was just thinking, you know, I've got to be fair to my other girls." She grimaced awkwardly. "They're all paying rent for their rooms; it's not quite fair, you know?"

Kenshin winced internally. Takamori was right; it really wasn't fair. If he was going to stay, he'd have to pay rent like the rest of them. And to afford rent he'd have to find a proper job. He could go back to his dish-washing gig at the noodle shop, but it had originally been in exchange for meals only, and Nomura the proprietor had only started paying him a little out of sympathy.

"I was thinking I could offer you a job," Takamori was saying. "I've been thinking I need someone to help out with the maintenance and cleaning, and the landscaping too, you know, especially now that it's summer and everything's growing so fast. If you'd be willing to do that, well... I'd have to check my budget and things, but I might be able to include the rent. You're such a delight to have around, Kenshin dear, and I've been needing to find another girl to fill up that spare room, you know?"

Kenshin smiled a hesitant and half-terrified smile. Takamori was offering him a job and a place to live. But rent aside, this was a women's apartment house. Maintaining this disguise for a few days was one thing, but living here indefinitely? The thought made him feel panicky. He had to talk to Yuriko again. They had to work something out, and soon.

"You're of age, right?" Takamori added, a bit uncomfortably. "I mean, you're over eighteen, aren't you?"

"Oro?" Kenshin blinked in sheer surprise. It must be the disguise, he thought. Even with those thick glasses, Takamori's eyesight couldn't be that bad.

"Yes, Takamori-dono," he replied gently. "I'm an adult, that I am."

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_sencha - a Japanese green tea. After harvesting, the tea leaves are briefly steamed to prevent fermentation. The leaves are then rolled and dried. Sencha is usually steeped for 30 seconds to 2 minutes using water that has cooled a little from boiling; the resulting infusion is greeny-yellow in color with a green grassy flavor. It can become bitter if oversteeped. _


	20. The importance of memory

**20. The importance of memory **

"Yuriko! Thank god you're back. You've got to help me with this!"

Yuriko stopped in the doorway of their shared office and stared at Rika. Her normally laid-back coworker looked almost frantic, the collar of her shirt askew and her feathered hair disheveled.

"Rika? What's wrong?" Something must have happened, Yuriko thought as she hurried into the room. When she'd gone out ten minutes ago for their mid-morning coffee run, Rika certainly hadn't looked like this. "Milk and one sugar," she added, and set a steaming paper cup on Rika's desk. The other woman ignored it.

"Room scheduling," Rika was saying. "This is driving me crazy!" She gripped the hair on either side of her head, clenching her teeth and swiveling her chair back and forth in small arcs.

"Yeah, the software's a pain. What happened?" Yuriko sat down in her own chair and blew on the surface of her coffee.

"It's not the software. It's the freaking Rhetoric department." Rika got up to pace around the room, waving her hands in wide arcs as she ranted. "You remember two weeks ago, how the chair of Rhetoric said the normal exam times were fine so long as they got that big lecture hall with the full-height lectern over in Central?"

"Yeah?" After last year's fiasco with the student oral presentations, they'd made a point of sending a note to the Rhetoric department specifically to double-check their requirements.

"Well, the VP's office just booked it out from under us for some kind of public lecture! They didn't even ask, they just made the change in the system and I only found out just now when the freaking chair of freaking Rhetoric called to yell at me!" Rika threw herself down into her chair and swiveled around in a circle.

"What are they doing scheduling a public lecture during finals?" Yuriko asked. She took a sip of coffee and scalded her tongue. "Ooh. Hot." She set the cup down on her desk.

"Does it matter?" Rika leaned back in her chair, arms hanging limp over the armrests, and gazed hopelessly up at the ceiling. "Why do these things happen?" she moaned, addressing the speckled white ceiling panels. "Why?"

Yuriko sighed and turned to her computer, nudging the mouse to bring it out of sleep mode. She had spent most of the morning so far processing graduation applications, checking that the students had fulfilled all the diverse requirements of their various programs, or at least would have by next week assuming they passed their final exams. She tabbed away from the graduation database and brought up the scheduling software. She had hoped not to have to deal with this again. She had hoped that this had all been sorted out last week.

Yuriko typed, clicked, typed some more, then frowned at the screen. Indeed, what Rika had said was true. There were the second-year Rhetoric final exam blocks, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, just like Rika had scheduled, but in place of the Rhetoric block on Tuesday was a terse note reading 'public lec, VP Acad.' Yuriko sighed. The Vice President Academic had priority over department chairs. They would have to find some other room for Rhetoric.

"Did I unwittingly desecrate the shrine of some room-scheduling god?" Rika was asking rhetorically behind her. "Did I kick puppies in some previous life, and this is karma paying me back? Was I some kind of renegade swordsman, slashing peasants for fun and profit?"

Yuriko paged through the available room listings, only half listening.

"Ooh, maybe I was an Ishin Shishi rebel, planning to burn down Kyoto, and got myself killed by the Shinsengumi," Rika was nattering on, half to herself.

Yuriko blinked and lifted her hands from the keyboard.

"Yeah, that would've been something." There was a smile now in Rika's voice. "Killed by the Shinsengumi at the Ikeda-ya." Rika paused, then gave a small gasp. "Oh, I hope it was Kondou!" she added, and giggled, girlishly.

Yuriko swiveled back around to face her coworker, eyebrows raised in disdain. The other woman was lying back in her chair, still gazing at the ceiling, a silly grin on her face.

"What is it with the Shinsengumi?" Yuriko demanded. "First Hana-chan, now you, and even _Kenshin--_"

Rika sat up, grinning in Yuriko's direction. "Who's Hana-chan?"

"One of my housemates," Yuriko said dismissively. "And _Kondou?_ That statue in Ueno Park?" Every time Yuriko went to Ueno Park, she somehow wound up walking past that chubby bronze statue with the little yappy-looking dog. It was not an attractive sight.

"Dude, that's Saigo Takamori. You want to see a statue of Kondou, you've got to go to Kyoto. But my god... _Kondou!_" Rika was smiling from ear to ear now. "Man, you've got to _see_ it! Kondou's why I started watching it in the first place, you know? He was in that boy band, and--"

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" Yuriko asked rhetorically, frowning with disapproval. What was it with the Shinsengumi these days?

"Yeah, but Ryu doesn't care." Rika flapped a hand dismissively. "It's different for guys; they're just in it for the fight scenes. Hey!" she added suddenly, leaning forward in her chair with her eyebrows arched eagerly at Yuriko. "What do you say I come over to your place on Sunday night and we can watch it with your housemate! It'll be so much fun, just us girls watching it together! I'll see if Hitomi wants to come too!" She started to swivel back towards her desk, reaching for her phone.

"Rika--"

"Oh, and Kenshin can go over to Ryu's place and watch it with him! Girls together, guys together. It'll be perfect!"

"Rika! I don't like TV, okay?" Yuriko said peevishly, trying not to snap at her. This was really starting to get on her nerves.

"Aww--"

"We've got to take care of this room for Rhetoric, remember?"

Rika sobered instantly. "Damn," she said. "You're right." She swiveled back toward her computer, biting her lip. "How big was the class again?"

"It's in the system," Yuriko said, getting up to point at Rika's screen over the other woman's shoulder. "You just enter the department code and the course number, there -- see?" She pointed at a text entry field. "And it pops up a box with the information."

"Hmm..." Rika started typing.

"You got it?" Yuriko had straightened up, wanting to let Rika do it for herself.

"Hmm... ah! Yeah, got it. Now the room..." Rika trailed off, muttering to herself as she entered the search terms and paged through the room listings.

Yuriko nodded and went back to her own desk, stretching her arms up over her head. She had been training Rika in room scheduling for the past month or so, figuring that the younger woman could help ease the burden during crunch time. It was helping, to some extent. Yuriko interlaced her fingers and stretched them out in front of her, knuckles cracking, then took a sip of her coffee.

If Rika could take care of the room booking, then Yuriko could get back to the graduation applications. She tabbed back to the database and lifted the topmost sheet of paper out of her inbox.

What was it with the Shinsengumi, she wondered again as she scanned her eyes over the course requirements listed on the form. This one was on track to graduate, and lots of good grades, too. Yuriko smiled. She liked to see the successful ones. She clicked on the appropriate field, typed a little, checked a couple of tick boxes, and clicked the 'submit' button. Then she set the sheet down on the corner of her desk and reached for the next one.

She had always liked Japanese history, had really gotten into it back in high school when they'd covered the revolution and the period of development that followed, but she'd never liked the Shinsengumi. They'd opposed the revolution, after all. If they had won, modern Japan would never have existed. Yuriko brought up the next student's record and started scanning her eyes down the entries on the form.

They had done a whole unit on the Shinsengumi back in her first year of high school, part of the preparation for the class trip to Kyoto. Even then, she had balked at it; while all her friends were enthusing about how awesome this or that sword-wielding Shinsengumi member was, she had taken a strong and immediate dislike to the entire group. They had always seemed sinister to her. Bloody. They made her think of slitted yellow eyes, of cold lupine smiles and the threat of sudden death.

Yuriko shivered a little as she reached for another graduation application from her stack. 'The Wolves of Mibu' was an appropriate nickname.

She glanced at the form, glanced at her screen, and pursed her lips, shivering again. They always air-conditioned this building a little too vigorously during the summer. Yuriko reached behind her to pull the forest-green cardigan off the back of her chair and slipped it on, drank some more of her coffee, then rubbed her hands together and picked up the graduation application again.

Shinsengumi, she thought as she scanned her eyes down the form. Apparently they were being made into big heroes now, with their own television show and legions of fangirls. Hana, Rika, even _Kenshin..._

No, Yuriko thought as she skimmed the entries on the form. Not Kenshin; not quite. She'd been surprised at the thought that he watched some silly show about swordsmen, but when she'd asked him about it after dinner last night, it was as if he hadn't even known the television show existed. Yuriko frowned. It shouldn't have been odd, but somehow something still felt wrong about what Kenshin had said. He could easily have known about the Shinsengumi without watching fictionalized dramas about them; there was no reason he couldn't have studied the history. But the way he'd talked about the various figures at the dinner table last night...

Yuriko shivered again and turned back to her screen, trying to dispel the sense of unease that had crept up on her. She ran her eyes down the entries on the display a second time. This one wasn't so good; the grade point average was barely marginal for graduation at all, let alone with honors. This one would have to really nail his finals next week if he didn't want to have to stick around in the fall and take a few more courses to bump those first-year 'D's into the 'optional' column. Yuriko sighed and clicked on the 'provisional' flag, then typed 'GPA' in the comments box and clicked the 'submit' button.

She'd never really wondered before why the Shinsengumi bothered her so much, Yuriko reflected as she reached for the next form. It must have been something from her childhood; some conflation of the Wolves of Mibu and the Big Bad Wolf. Something like that. She clicked a few buttons on the screen. Yeah, she thought; something like that. She must have gotten some story about the Shinsengumi mixed up with the story of the wolf in policeman's clothing.

Yuriko froze. The form slipped from between her fingers, brushed the edge of her desk, slid by her knee, and landed on the floor.

She shook herself and bent hastily to pick up the sheet of paper. _Sheep's_ clothing, she told herself. The wolf in _sheep's_ clothing. But her heart was beating fast now, and she couldn't quite shake the image of a mild-mannered smile beneath a policeman's cap, a smile that could so easily shift into the bloodthirsty grin of a wolf.

"Yes!" Rika's shout of triumph made Yuriko jump.

"Oh!" she yelped. "Rika, you startled me!"

"Got one, lectern and everything," Rika was saying, hopping up from her chair victoriously. "I had to shift a math final into a different room but that should be okay, right?" Rika paused, looking at her oddly. "Yuriko? You all right?"

"Fine," she replied tersely, and then sighed and forced a smile. "Sorry, Rika; I'm fine."

"You looked kind of freaked out there for a minute."

"Don't worry about it," Yuriko replied dismissively, smiling more genuinely. The moment had passed, and with it the chill of danger; once more the office was bright and familiar and ordinary. "You just... startled me a bit, that's all." She picked up her coffee cup and swigged down the last bit of liquid. It was lukewarm and gritty with undissolved sugar. "Ugh," she added, and grimaced at the dregs in the bottom of the cup.

o-o-o

Kenshin settled down at the base of a big maple and sighed, propping his knees up in front of him and leaning his head back against the smooth bark. It was mid-day, not quite as hot as it had been yesterday but more humid if anything, the blue of the sky subdued with haze. Here in the shade of the trees back behind the garden it was only marginally cooler.

He wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of a wrist and then stretched his arms up over his head, glancing up into the green canopy and letting a gentle smile settle onto his lips. He'd spent most of the morning working in the garden, hauling compost from the heap back among the trees to mulch the soil around the vegetables. He'd known since he'd cleared the weeds away yesterday that this would be necessary, that otherwise the bare earth would lose moisture too rapidly in this heat. And not only would a nice thick layer of half-decomposed leaves and twigs help to hold the water, it would attract beneficial insects and discourage new weed growth as well. Kenshin glanced fondly over toward the vegetable patch. Mulch was a good thing all around.

He'd escaped out here to the garden as soon as he could, as soon as he'd finished washing the breakfast dishes. Takamori had followed him in from the front steps, and he'd had an awkward several minutes convincing her to settle down in the dining room to read her newspaper and drink some more tea while he did the washing-up. He hadn't really felt comfortable cleaning up with the older woman around, and in any case he'd needed some time alone to think about what she'd said to him there on the front steps. Out here, working in the hot sunshine with the green growing things breathing moisture into the air all around him, bathed in the buzz of the cicadas and the heady scents of the vegetation, he could begin to think about what he should do.

Takamori had offered him a job and a place to live -- a place right here with Yuriko, no less. But this was still a women's apartment house, and it was still only a matter of time before one or another of Yuriko's housemates saw through his disguise. It just wouldn't work, and Kenshin knew it. So he'd found a bucket and a small spade and carried compost while he thought about the possibilities.

There weren't many, at least not that he could think of. He could go back to sleeping in the park, in the near term at least; it shouldn't be so bad, not any more. Not now that he'd seen Kaoru's eyes and Kaoru's smile, alive in a new face. In the longer term...

In the longer term he just wasn't sure. He would need to find some form of housing, certainly before the start of winter. And he should probably try to find some more stable form of work.

He hadn't thought about either of those things before today. It almost made him laugh now, thinking of the start of winter; up until the last few days, that future had seemed more distant than eternity. Up until the last few days it had been all he could do just to live from one sunset to the next, working his way down his list, seeking out his kinfolk one by one. He hadn't been able to think about the future. But now, here, with Yuriko...

Kenshin smiled happily upwards, letting his eyes play over the scraps of blue that showed through the gaps between the leaves. The future was back, stretching out again in front of him.

Maybe they could find a place to live together. It would depend on Yuriko, of course; she had a home here already, and Kenshin would never ask her to move just for his sake. Yuriko would come up with a solution, he told himself. They just needed a chance to talk about it, to work out what to do. They still hadn't had an opportunity to talk about the future.

And he still didn't know how much of the past Yuriko truly remembered.

It would come, he told himself. There just hadn't been enough time, not yet. Until then, he just had to keep on doing what he was doing. Until then, he just had to stay here and wait for Yuriko.

Kenshin sighed and lowered his eyes from the green canopy of maple leaves, looking back through the shrubbery towards the house. He knew he was already starting to make a mess of it. He'd offended Motoko badly this morning, and he still didn't even know how. Hana seemed to like him, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing either, since the more time he spent around any of them the greater the chance that his deception would be discovered.

And then there was Takamori. He had finally started to feel comfortable around Takamori, and it was apparent from the way she'd opened up to him this morning on the front steps that she was comfortable around him. But her words had somehow put him on edge again, and remembering them now made him want to squirm. Not just the offer of a job and a place to live. Takamori had gotten a little too personal. She had asked him about his parents. That in itself didn't bother him; what bothered him was that his guard had been far enough down that he'd told her.

It was awkward, that was all, Kenshin thought, stirring uncomfortably against the tree-trunk. He didn't like to talk about his past, didn't like to talk about himself at all, to anyone. Even Kaoru had had to coax his feelings out of him, bit by bit over their long years together. Now he was sure he'd be fidgeting with embarrassment every time he laid eyes on Takamori.

It wasn't even as if it hurt to think about his parents, not any more. Those wounds had been closed for a long time, almost longer than he could remember. He'd been very young when they'd died, and he'd been too occupied with just surviving after that to spend a lot of time getting emotional. He had mourned them in his own way, even before Hiko had found him and taken him in. He had never wanted anyone's sympathy. One didn't talk about one's feelings about such things.

Hiko was gone now, too.

The thought came unexpectedly, ambushing him before he could shy away, and suddenly it hurt to breathe. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms tightly around them, squeezing them against the knot in his chest.

He hadn't expected this. Of all the people he'd left behind, why should he react this way over Hiko? They hadn't even been _friends_, not exactly. Kenshin was the student. Hiko was the master. That was all.

That was so much more than enough.

Everything he knew, he owed to Hiko. Everything he was that was worth anything, the skills he relied on to protect people, even the ideals by which he tried to live, all those things he owed to Hiko.

Hiko had snatched him out of the hands of death, had given him a new name and a new life. Hiko had taught him _everything,_ had been with him every day for six long years as he'd stumbled toward adulthood. Hiko was the master, the shishou, the towering figure that was the embodiment of all that was perfect in the world, and by the gods, Hiko had known it. It had hurt to leave, but he'd been desperate, angry, idealistic. It had hurt far more when he'd realized what he'd become, the antithesis of all Hiko's ideals. When he'd realized that he could never go back.

And he hadn't gone back, not for fourteen years, not until necessity had driven him past the shame to seek out his old master once again. He'd been truly surprised then by what he'd felt, laying eyes on his shishou again for the first time in so many years. It had been so easy to fall back into the role of the apprentice, had actually felt good in a way to be training again with Hiko, in spite of the thrashing and the merciless teasing he'd wound up taking, in spite of his frantic desperation to learn the techniques that he knew he'd need in order to go up against Shishio Makoto without losing himself.

Kenshin forced himself to straighten up, wheezing a breath against the constriction in his throat. This was no good, he told himself. It wasn't as if Hiko was the most important person in his life. It wasn't as if he'd visited more than three or four times in the ten years since their reunion.

_Three or four times..._ Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the soft blue denim that covered his knees. Oh, gods, he'd only visited three or four times since their reunion. He should have gone back more often. How he wished he'd gone back more often. Because he'd left Hiko alone on the mountain, and now it was too late. He had never thought that Hiko would have to be alone for the rest of his life.

There'd been a moment, ten years ago in Kyoto when he'd learned that Arai Shakku the swordmaker had died, just a fraction of a second when he'd thought, _What if Hiko--_ He hadn't let himself go there, hadn't let himself think that way, but still, fourteen years had been a long time. Long enough even for the master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu to grow old.

Old. Ha. Kenshin's own skills had deteriorated far more in those fourteen years than Hiko's had. After that reunion, after seeing how little his shishou had changed, Kenshin had begun to think of him as almost immortal.

But no one was immortal. And he'd left Hiko alone on the mountain.

_No,_ Kenshin told himself, sitting up and scrubbing at his eyes. Hiko could take care of himself, and in any case the Oniwabanshuu knew him now, knew him and owed him their gratitude. Kenshin had heard the tale from Yahiko, of the remarkable end of the battle at the Aoi-ya.

_Yahiko..._

_No!_ He frantically pushed the thought away, scrambling to his feet as if to escape it. It was too much. He could only handle one of them at a time. He had to keep moving; there was more mulching he ought to do, and the compost heap needed turning. Kenshin picked up the bucket and spade and hurried back in among the trees.

He would have to deal with all this eventually, he thought as he scooped mulch from the lower edge of the pile and tipped it into the bucket. But he didn't have to deal with it now, not all at once. There was time. Lots of time. And he had to keep going; he had to be there for Yuriko.

Kenshin snatched up the bucket again and crunched back through the leaf litter to the vegetable patch. He dumped the compost out and spread it carefully around the base of the last of the eggplants, then turned back for another bucketful. There was still that row of green beans to do, and then he'd turn over what was left of the compost heap. And he really ought to wash both of Yuriko's yukata after the bath disaster last night. It was hot enough out here; they should dry pretty quickly. And while he was at it, he might as well do the rest of her laundry too. Perhaps not her underwear, though. She hadn't been too happy the last time he'd done that.

He hurriedly refilled the bucket, then stopped himself with an effort, setting down the spade and straightening up. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long calming breath, forcing his hands to unclench. Then he reached down again, picked up the bucket in one hand and the spade in the other, and turned to walk -- not run -- back through the soft shade of the trees toward the vegetable patch.

He hadn't expected this, but he couldn't run from it forever. They hadn't exactly been friends, but he had loved Hiko as a-- as a _shishou_. That was unique. There was nothing else in his experience like it.

And it was more than just the loss of a mentor. There were things that Hiko knew about him that no one else in the world knew, things they'd experienced together that no one else had seen. With Hiko gone, Kenshin's own memories of those things were the only memories left in the world. And it wasn't just Hiko: there was no-one now who had seen his childhood; no-one now who had fought beside him, who had fought _against_ him in the revolution; no-one who had met him for a moment or a day in his ten years of wandering. It was as if his life was beginning to evaporate, piece by piece, with no-one left alive to remember that any of it had ever happened.

No-one except Yuriko, with Kaoru's soul looking out through her eyes.

Kenshin needed her now, even more than he'd realized. He needed her to remember.

o-o-o

Yuriko stood up, gathering her papers into a more manageable stack and reaching down to retrieve her shoulder-bag from under the seat as the meeting adjourned. A relaxed hubbub of voices filled the lecture hall as the faculty began to file out.

The faculty senate had been considering changes to the university-wide graduation requirements and had asked the administration to provide them with statistics; further, they'd wanted a human being present who could answer questions. So Yuriko had gone, right after lunch: this was her fourth year now taking care of the graduation applications and she'd probably seen every possible way a student could screw it up.

She nodded and smiled to the professors as she inched her way forward with the crowd, filing slowly up the carpeted steps of the lecture hall towards the exit. This hadn't been a waste of time after all, she told herself as she reached the doors and quickened her pace across the lobby, suddenly free from the press of bodies. The senate had spent a good half hour on the graduation requirements, discussing the recommendations of the appropriate committee and even asking her for input on two separate items. They'd moved a proposal, seconded it, discussed it some more, and finally voted using nothing more than a show of hands. Yuriko had never been to a faculty senate meeting before. In a way she found it fascinating, seeing how the decisions were made, seeing how the wheels of the academic side of the university turned. Still, she considered herself damn lucky that she didn't have to go to these every month.

Yuriko pushed open the big glass door, emerging from the air-conditioned chill into the sauna that was Tokyo in July. She skipped down the steps, slipping off her cardigan and turning left toward the quad.

The second half of the morning had gone almost surprisingly smoothly. There'd been no further interruptions from irate department chairs, and she'd managed to put the Shinsengumi out of her mind and focus on the graduation applications. She'd processed a good thick stack by the time Hitomi had stuck her head around the doorframe to call them down to lunch. By then, she'd been more than happy to take a break.

Walking across the quad toward the cafeteria, though, she'd noticed Rika eyeing the bento box in her hand with a big eager smile on her face and realized that the other girl was going to ask her again about how she'd met Kenshin. She had promised yesterday to tell them later. She couldn't put them off forever. So she'd made a preemptive comment to Hitomi about the morning's paper.

"Can you _believe_ it!" Hitomi had started, and Rika had rolled her big brown eyes theatrically. "That poor woman! As if being stuck in North Korea all those years wasn't bad enough, now the Americans want to arrest her husband! He's only been in Japan for three days!" And so on. The conversation at lunch had remained safely clear of Kenshin. Yuriko had felt guilty about it, but what else could she do?

The conversation had stayed clear of Kenshin, but Yuriko's thoughts hadn't. As she'd eaten her bento, half-listening to Hitomi's descriptions of the abductees' plight, she'd been groping around in her memory, playing out possible introductions, possible chance meetings. Nothing had seemed right. She just couldn't remember.

It would come to her, she'd told herself for what seemed like the twentieth time as she'd hurried back to the office ahead of the others to drop off her empty bento box and grab her stack of notes before recrossing the quad to the faculty senate meeting. And she'd put the question firmly out of her mind.

But now, walking back across the quad under the bright sun and the hazy blue sky, the question came back to nag at her again. Why couldn't she remember how she'd met him? Why couldn't she remember anything about their time together? She had nothing clear, nothing concrete, nothing except for the emotions and a few vague impressions.

Nothing except for Kyoto.

It was the one memory that was more than just an emotion, more than just an impression. It was the one clear picture that she had, that horrifying picture of Kenshin covered in his own blood. She could still taste the intensity of the emotions that had poured into her along with that memory, standing three days ago in the tiny sliver of park next to the apartment house and watching Kenshin change his clothes. She could feel those emotions even now: the gut-shaking relief of having survived a fight; the warm glow of pride in Yahiko; the pain of her own fresh bruises; and then the cold shock of terror at the sight of Kenshin, at the thought that Sanosuke might be carrying back a corpse.

Yuriko shivered in spite of the heat, slowing her pace and adjusting the strap of the bag over her shoulder. The quad wasn't crowded at this time of the afternoon; a few students were walking purposefully this way and that, or sitting on the benches, chatting with friends or reading from fat textbooks. It was a familiar sight -- a familiar environment, with its summer-lush grass and the few big trees scattered around. But somehow the thought of Kyoto made it feel a little bit wrong, a little bit artificial. As if Kyoto were more real than this space that she'd walked across every weekday for the past four years.

Because the more she thought about Kyoto, the more it failed to fit.

Kyoto was the key, Yuriko realized. The one clear and identifiable memory. The one piece of the puzzle that refused to fit anywhere into her life. Sanosuke, Yahiko, Misao-chan, the rest of them... They were like people out of a story. She remembered them, yes, but only in that snapshot from Kyoto, only in that one piece that didn't fit. There was no overlap with the rest of her life, no clues to work out the context. It was almost as if they were fictional, made-up; almost as if they'd come out of some book she'd read, some movie she'd seen.

Except for the intensity of the memories. And except for Kenshin. Kyoto had to be real, because Kenshin had been there. And Kenshin was certainly real.

Wasn't he?

Yuriko faltered, coming to a halt on the path beside one of the big trees, her lips parted in puzzlement. Suddenly it all felt very strange, as if Kenshin had been pasted in on top of her reality, as if he weren't really a part of this world but had somehow slipped across from some other dimension.

No way, Yuriko thought, shaking her head and walking on. That thought was just stupid, as stupid as visiting Tokyo Tower to look for space warps and giant mutant lizards. Kenshin was here, and reality was reality.

Still, there was something decidedly odd about Kenshin, she thought as she reached the edge of the quad and turned toward the administration building. The way he talked, the way he dressed, the way he carried a sword as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The way he knew so much about the history of the Shinsengumi but had had to ask her whether slavery was still practiced. The way he cooked for her and did her laundry, the way he'd laughed it off when she'd hit him with her fan, the way he'd known that violets were her favorite flower. The way he made her feel whenever she looked at him, even though she knew to the core of her being that she'd never had a boyfriend. The way he called her Kaoru, and the way it didn't seem strange to her in the slightest.

Misao had called her Kaoru, too.

It was too weird, Yuriko thought as she started up the wide concrete steps of the administration building. There had to be a rational explanation for it all. She just needed to remember how she'd met Kenshin, and then it would all fit. If she could just remember him and her parents together, him and her cousin Sae together, him and her friends from school together...

'If Kenshin had said he knew you,' Sae had said. Sae hadn't known him, then. But Sae had always been her closest friend, had been almost a sister to her. They'd spent their whole lives together in Kamakura before Yuriko had moved to the city, and even since then they'd seen each other every few weeks. So how could she have gotten to know Kenshin so well without Sae having known about it?

Yuriko pulled open one of the big doors and stepped briskly into the foyer of the building. This was all too strange, she thought again as she started up the stairs. Her memory might be a little screwed up, but reality was reality. There had to be a rational explanation for all of this.

Her parents would know how it all fit together, she told herself again. And maybe she'd misinterpreted Sae's comment. Maybe Sae did remember Kenshin after all. Still, _'If Kenshin had said he knew you...'_

No, Yuriko thought as she pushed open the stairwell door and started down the hall, back toward her office. Thinking like this wasn't getting her anywhere. Her parents would know how it all fit together. She just had to call them and ask. She could rely on them; she had always relied on them. She only hoped they wouldn't think she was losing her mind.


	21. Discovered

**21. Discovered **

She'd done reasonably well on the exam, Motoko thought as she trotted up the steps from the subway platform, and the thought pleased her greatly. It meant that all that studying was starting to pay off. She'd know for sure next Wednesday when the grades were posted, but if she'd done as well as she thought, she was actually on track to pass at least the English component of the entrance exams come winter.

She transferred her heavy schoolbag to her other hand and fished the student pass out of her pocket to tap against the reader on the gate. The barrier chunked open and she strode on, past the florist, past the newsagent, and outside into the sticky heat.

She'd stayed on after the test for math class. She'd intended to go to the tutorial afterwards -- if there was one subject she really needed to buckle down on, math was it -- but the morning's abbreviated sleep had caught up with her by the time the lecture had ended at three, and she'd decided she'd be better off studying at home tonight.

It was a good setup, all in all, she thought as she rounded the corner and started through the park, the sound of the traffic all but drowned out by the incessant whine of the cicadas. She'd found that she couldn't focus on more than simple reading at the desk in her cramped room in the apartment house, but her evenings at the dining-room table after the rest of the tenants had eaten were turning out to be very productive. She'd chosen the apartment house because it was cheap and clean and women-only. She was living off savings for the most part -- her teaching job at Women's Defense paid only a token amount -- and she knew she'd need to stretch out her funds for as long as possible once she started at the university. Luckily, Takamori hadn't quite been paying attention to the rate at which rents were rising these days, and to get this good a deal elsewhere she probably would've had to share a room with a stranger. She hadn't wanted to deal that closely with another person. And the fact that the Yanaka Grand Hotel was a women-only apartment house had clinched the deal. The last thing she'd wanted to have to deal with here was men.

Motoko came out of the alley and turned up the street toward the apartment house, keeping to the shade of the trees. This steamy weather was not helping her concentration. She'd probably need a cool shower before she could hope to focus enough to start on her math homework.

She hoped she wouldn't run into Kenshin. She'd lost it this morning; she'd really flown off the handle. She ought to have kept herself under control. She'd only wanted to help, she'd only wanted to make sure Kenshin was safe, but the parallels had been too strong. This was what she'd come to Tokyo to get away from. She couldn't help people who refused to help themselves.

Enablers, that's what they were, she thought as she pushed open the big wooden door and toed off her trainers. Kenshin and her mother both. Motoko set her jaw and strode up the stairs toward her room.

o-o-o

Kenshin laid his hands in the middle of his back and stretched, then smiled at his handiwork, swinging his arms a little to loosen up his shoulders. What with all the scrubbing, and the lifting and shoveling earlier, he was probably going to be a bit sore tomorrow.

By the time he'd finished with the laundry he'd worked up quite an appetite, so he'd come in to the kitchen to throw together a late lunch. He'd taken his bowl of rice and the leftover cucumber salad from breakfast back outside and sat on the edge of the veranda to eat, watching the trees and listening to the cicadas in the heavy summer air. He had always enjoyed that back home, just sitting on the edge of the engawa and looking out at the sky, but today it had reminded him too much of the past, the sounds of the cicadas seeming to call for the sounds of little Kenji playing in the yard. So he'd gotten up and gone back inside to wash his dishes.

There, in the kitchen, he'd noticed that the stove could use a bit of cleaning, and so he'd done that, scrubbing it down and wiping it clean. He'd done the oven next, then gotten carried away and cleaned all the cabinets, scrubbing their doors inside and out and then systematically removing the pots and pans and dishes from each of them to wipe down the glossy contact paper that covered the shelves. Some of them had taken quite a lot of scrubbing to remove the sticky layer of old aerosolized oil and linty blue-gray dust, punctuated with the occasional unidentifiable and long-dried splatter. It looked like it hadn't been done properly in years.

He'd taken a bit of a break after that, heading back out into the sunshine and up the steps to the third-floor patio to collect the dry laundry. He'd folded it neatly and put it away, the fabric feeling strangely crisp against his water-softened hands. It had occurred to him then that if the kitchen cabinets hadn't been cleaned properly in years, then the pantry probably hadn't been either, so when he'd finished with the laundry he'd come back down to the kitchen to tackle it. He'd taken down the cans and jars and boxes of stored food one shelf at a time, wiping off the combination of dust, spilled flour, and tiny desiccated insects that tend to accumulate in such places. The folding step-ladder that he'd found in the closet beside the pantry had been a great help. Finally, emboldened by the step-ladder, he'd unscrewed the frosted glass globes that covered the lights in the kitchen ceiling and washed those as well.

Very good, Kenshin thought as he smiled up at the gleaming light fixtures. It had been a lot of work, but it was satisfying to see the kitchen so clean, and it really had needed doing. With such a big house, there would always be something that needed to be done; it was a wonder Takamori could handle it all by herself. Kenshin toyed briefly with the idea of taking her up on her offer, then put the thought aside. He'd wait and see what Yuriko decided.

He had a little more than two hours now before Yuriko returned from work. Just enough time to go out and do some grocery shopping and then cook dinner. He needed to pick up some more tofu, and he'd used up almost all the rice vinegar this morning on the cucumber salad and the pickles for tomorrow.

Kenshin stepped out the back door to fetch his zori from the ground beside the veranda steps. The backyard was still empty -- the residents here seemed to be out pretty much universally during the middle of the afternoon. Kenshin scanned the windows briefly and glanced up to make sure no one was up on the third-floor patio hanging out laundry, then nodded to himself and went back inside, zori held by their straps in one hand.

Good, he thought. There would be no one around to see him when he changed his clothes and slipped out the window to go shopping.

o-o-o

Motoko dumped her brown leather schoolbag onto the floor beside her desk and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to let go of the residue of anger. Normally the anger helped her focus, helped drive her on, but this was too close, too immediate. Too personal.

Because she had seen it all before. Kenshin was one of those people who put the needs of others first. Kenshin was one of those people who apologized when not at fault. Kenshin was one of those people who, once committed, stayed in a bad situation. Even if that initial commitment had been a huge mistake.

Motoko leaned on her desk and sighed, glaring down out the window toward the tidy formal garden below. How could she help someone who didn't want to be helped? Just thinking about it made her furious. She took another deep breath, trying to put it out of her mind, trying to focus on what she needed to do.

She should run downstairs now and take a quick shower, then set herself up at the dining-room table to do some math homework. She ought to have an hour and a half before the other residents started coming home; after that there'd be too much going on downstairs and she'd have to come back up here to her room.

She straightened up and started to turn away from the window, then paused. Something had caught her eye: a flicker of motion in one of the second-floor windows opposite, the one at the far right end of the opposite wing. A flicker of motion, and a flash of scarlet.

Motoko blinked. That was the spare room, the room Takamori had put Kenshin in. The afternoon sun was shining in through the curtainless window, lighting up part of the inside of the room. It had been sunlight flashing off Kenshin's bright hair that had caught her eye. She leaned closer to her window, head tilted slightly to one side, peering across into the other wing of the building. Kenshin was standing just beyond the edge of the sunlight, facing away from the window, reaching back to undo the ties of the long blue dress.

"Changing her clothes--?" Motoko breathed. She blinked again, came to a sudden realization, and dived for her closet.

This was her chance. It was her duty to help, whether Kenshin wanted it or not. She hurled open the closet door and hauled out one of the cardboard boxes from the floor, flipping open the flaps and rummaging inside. Last night in the furo, there had been something Kenshin hadn't wanted her to see. Maybe it was the first signs of pregnancy. Maybe it was the telltale marks of abuse. Either way, it was Motoko's duty to help.

"Yes!" Motoko pulled out the binoculars with a cry of victory. She'd bought them for the birdwatching club in high school, had brought them with her to Tokyo simply because they belonged to her. She'd never really expected them to come in handy again.

She scrambled to her feet and raced back to the window, dropping the binoculars' soft case behind her on the floor. She held them steady to her eyes, the window opposite swinging through focus and then back as she adjusted the dial.

Kenshin's back was toward her, shoulders and elbows moving in small repetitive motions. Unbuttoning the blouse, Motoko realized.

Kenshin reached the end of the row of buttons and slid out of the white shirt.

No slip; no bra straps. A bit surprising, but then, Kenshin wasn't particularly well endowed in the chest department. Motoko fine-tuned the focus on her binoculars. There were no marks, no red or purple marring the pale skin of Kenshin's back, at least not that she could see under that cascade of red hair.

That beautiful red hair. So exotic, so _other._ She wondered if Kenshin had suffered for it as a child. She wondered if Kenshin suffered for it still.

_At least she's fit,_ Motoko thought. A bit on the skinny side, but well-muscled -- none of the disgusting stick-thin fashion-model arms that so many girls strove for these days. Probably from growing up in the country, she thought. Physical labor had some benefits.

Kenshin was standing still, carefully folding the blouse. Motoko scanned her view downward. The underwear was a bit strange, more like a loincloth than anything, but again, Kenshin was from the country after all. Probably some impoverished farmer's daughter.

Motoko couldn't tell from behind if there were the first signs of a bulge there. She'd have to wait until Kenshin turned around. Still, with those narrow hips it would be a difficult childbirth. She wondered if Kenshin had been to an obstetrician yet.

Motoko chewed her lower lip, waiting. Kenshin finished folding the blouse with a final flip of the sleeve ends and crouched to set it down, then straightened back up and turned toward the window, reaching for something else.

Motoko never saw what it was. She had pulled back from the binoculars and was standing, eyes wide and mouth open, not quite believing what she had just seen.

Kenshin wasn't pregnant. Kenshin wasn't a woman.

Motoko stood, opening and closing her mouth, trying to get her mind around what she'd seen.

_How..._

Kenshin wasn't a woman. Kenshin was living here, among them, and he wasn't a woman. Motoko felt the blood start to rise to her face.

_How dare he?_

She tossed the binoculars aside and yanked open her door, her teeth clenching in fury.

_How DARE he?_

Motoko charged out into the hall and broke into a run. All the years of anger, all the years of guilt, all the years of watching and doing nothing were burning inside her, driving her on, driving her faster. She sprinted past the stairway and hurled herself round the corner into the east wing of the building. All those years and how _dare_ he, for her mother and for all the women in the world she would make him suffer, she would hurt him oh god she would kill him!

Motoko reached the last door in the hallway and hurled it open.

"_You!_" she screamed.

"Oro--!" Kenshin's eyes were wide, his expression of surprise almost comical.

Motoko's anger was a living thing, a kinetic thing, driving her on. She aimed a lightning-fast snap-kick at Kenshin's stomach, all her power behind it.

It never connected.

There was a flicker of motion, a magenta blur and he was gone, leaving dust motes swirling in the suddenly empty sunbeam that streamed in through the open window.

There was a heavy thud from the garden below.

Motoko recovered her balance. A flicker of guilt passed through her, quickly erased by a white-hot fury. She was at the window in an instant.

Kenshin was staggering to his feet below, two storeys down on the hard-packed earth between the sloped roof of the veranda and the edge of the garden. He glanced up at her and bolted, sprinting around the wing of the building and away.

Motoko clutched the windowsill, breathing hard. Should she go after him? Should she try to catch him? She wanted to, she wanted to badly -- to catch him and beat him senseless. But he had a head start on her now, and every moment that she wavered was making it longer.

The inferno of anger was tempering again inside her, focusing down once more into a cutting torch. She hadn't been able to strike him, but at least she'd driven him out. Out the second-floor window. She hoped viciously that he'd hurt himself in the fall.

How _dare_ he come here among them, into her safe place? How _dare_ he come here into the women's apartment house?

But he hadn't done it alone, had he. Kenshin had been helped.

"Yuriko-san," Motoko growled.

o-o-o

Kenshin leaned against the high wooden fence, eyes squeezed closed and heart pounding. Motoko had found out. Motoko had _seen_. He felt terrible.

It had only been a matter of time. He'd kept telling himself that, but it didn't make it any better. Motoko had found out, and it was his own fault.

He blew out a shaky breath and opened his eyes. He'd sprinted all the way down the street, through the alley, past the hardware store and the grocery, all the way through to the park before slowing down.

He'd just _had_ to change his clothes, hadn't he. He'd just _had_ to take his sword with him to go grocery shopping. He was such an idiot! Motoko had found out, and now Yuriko was going to have to deal with the consequences.

Kenshin clunked his head back against the wood of the fence, moaning softly. He'd ruined _everything_. He wouldn't be able to go back now. He wouldn't be able to stay there with Yuriko. For all he knew, she might even be evicted for smuggling him in like that. And all because he'd wanted to take his sword with him when he went grocery shopping.

o-o-o

Motoko paused in mid-stride halfway down the corridor back to her room, her brows quirking together in puzzlement. Had it been her imagination, or had Kenshin been wearing a sword?

o-o-o

Kenshin sighed miserably and pushed himself up off the fence. There was no use going to the market now; he wouldn't be able to cook dinner for Yuriko anyway. But he couldn't just hang around here feeling sorry for himself.

He took a tentative step away from the fence, favoring his right leg. He'd been limping a little already by the time he'd reached the park.

It had been instinct alone that had saved him from Motoko's kick. If he hadn't felt that murderous ki coming down the hall he probably wouldn't have dodged it. As it was, he'd almost frozen in surprise when he'd seen it was her and not some armed intruder bent on mayhem. Instinct had saved him from her kick, but the surprise had spoiled his landing. At least he hadn't broken anything.

He flexed his hip and winced. The bruising was going to be pretty bad. He hoped Yuriko didn't find out; on top of everything else, to make her worry about him as well would be unbearable.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_engawa - the long covered porch that encircles old-style Japanese buildings _


	22. Night on the town

**22. Night on the town **

As soon as she saw Kenshin's face, she knew something was wrong.

Yuriko faltered for a moment, then hurried forward out of the subway station's covered entrance. He had started towards her already from where he'd been standing in the shade of the lonely little tree that grew in the middle of the concrete forecourt. His bangs were unpinned and there was a look of anxious misery on his face.

"Kenshin?" she called out, closing the distance between them. "What is it? What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

It wasn't just his hair. He was wearing his hakama and that magenta kimono again, the sakabatou hanging at his waist. Yuriko's breath caught. "Why are you wearing...?"

"Kaoru," he started, clutching his hands together anxiously. "Motoko-dono knows. I'm so very sorry, that I am."

Yuriko blinked. She opened her mouth and then closed it again.

_Motoko-dono knows._

"Oh my god," she said, as the realization came together. "Oh, crap."

Kenshin had been worried about this. He'd been worried about exactly this, just last night. He'd even said it himself: 'It's only a matter of time before one of them finds out.' This was bad. And for it to have been Motoko, of all people...

Yuriko cringed. Motoko had taken a special interest in Kenshin. Motoko had been _concerned_. And, worse, hadn't Motoko been upset at him this very morning?

Would she tell the whole household? Was Motoko the kind of person to do that out of spite? Or even out of a sense of duty? Yuriko had no idea. She didn't know Motoko; they'd been living in the same house for two months and she still had no idea how Motoko would react.

Yuriko sucked in a breath between her teeth and looked anxiously back at Kenshin. This was a disaster. There was certainly no taking him back to the apartment house now. What was she going to do?

"Kaoru?" he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. "What will happen to you?"

"To _me?_" she blurted. She hadn't even begun to think about the consequences to herself. Kenshin obviously wouldn't be able to go back if Motoko told the whole household. But Yuriko herself...

Oh crap, she thought again, had she just violated the terms of her lease? Would Takamori be angry? The older woman seemed to have taken quite a liking to Kenshin, but to be told she'd been so deceived... And what about the rest of her housemates? Would it even be worth it, being allowed to stay if they all resented her for this?

Maybe Motoko wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe, if she didn't take Kenshin back there, Motoko would forgive her and keep this between the two of them. Was Motoko that kind of person? Again, Yuriko had no idea. But if she was lucky...

Motoko seemed the type to be strict but fair. She certainly wasn't afraid to put a person in their place, but Yuriko had never heard her snipe at anyone behind their back. Maybe it would be all right.

"Kaoru?" Kenshin prompted. He had caught hold of her hand in both of his and was clutching it now, tightly.

"Don't worry," she said quickly. "It'll be fine. You'll see. I'll talk to Motoko-san and it'll be fine." She put more conviction in her voice than she really felt.

He hesitated for a moment, watching her uncertainly, then continued softly. "I won't be able to go home with you, that I won't."

Yuriko closed her eyes. "Yes," she replied, and laid her other hand over his. This was what she'd been afraid of, last night. This was the price she was going to have to pay for her deception. She never should have dressed him up like a girl. She never should have lied to her housemates. The weepy panic of the previous evening was starting to well up inside her again.

"Kaoru..." Kenshin said, touching her lightly on the cheek.

Yuriko opened her eyes.

"Please, if there's anything I can do..."

She shook her head abruptly and cleared her throat. "No," she said. "It's not your fault."

"Yes it-"

"_No,_" she said again, firmly. "I'll be fine. But where are you going to stay? How--" She choked off the word, desperately fighting the urge to cry.

"Please don't worry, Kaoru. I'll be fine, that I will. And I can meet you every day -- here, out, wherever you like." He was looking at her earnestly, his violet eyes clear and direct and a small encouraging smile on his lips. She could still see traces of her pink lipgloss there, and the scar on his cheek was still carefully hidden under her makeup.

Yuriko took a deep breath, then returned a wavery smile of her own. "Okay," she said.

"Oh--" An unpleasant thought seemed to strike Kenshin. "I wasn't able to cook dinner for you, Kaoru, that I wasn't." He winced anxiously. "You must be getting hungry. I'm very sorry about that."

Yuriko opened her mouth, closed it again, and burst out laughing. It was true, she was starting to get hungry, but for Kenshin to worry about that of all things... Feeding her was not his responsibility. Not really. She'd gotten by just fine before last Sunday.

When her life had been empty.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a smile. "We can go downtown for dinner!" In a way, she thought, this might be a blessing in disguise. She would finally get a chance to talk to Kenshin, one-on-one, without Hana and without Takamori and most of all without Motoko preventing the conversation from taking on any depth.

"Downtown?" Kenshin echoed, surprised. "It's... it's a little far to walk to Asakusa, isn't it, Kaoru?"

Asakusa? Yuriko's eyebrows lifted. She'd meant to just go to some noodle joint here in Yanaka. But if he wanted to go to Asakusa, she'd be more than happy to take him there. There was that excellent beef-pot place where Rika and Hitomi had taken her for lunch one Saturday last year. She'd been itching to go back there ever since.

"Don't be silly," she said, grinning all over her face. "We'll take the subway, of course!" And she turned to gesture grandly back at the station's entrance, Kenshin's hand clasped in her own.

o-o-o

"So, what do you think?" Yuriko asked, plopping down beside Kenshin on the bench beneath the trees. She propped her arms behind her and leaned back, gazing out at the crowds and the tall pagoda off to their left.

"This is my favorite place in Tokyo," Kenshin replied softly. He was still looking off into the distance, across the square towards the big main hall of the temple.

"Really?" Yuriko said, a little surprised. "You've been here before, then."

She'd made this little detour on purpose, wanting to be sure Kenshin had gotten over the guilt of Motoko's discovery before they sat down for dinner. She had known he would blame himself, had known he would be miserable unless she did something about it. And so on the subway she'd taken control of the conversation, had firmly steered it into smalltalk. Distracting him. It had worked. And once they'd gotten to the Asakusa station it was only a couple of blocks out of their way to show him Sensouji Temple. She'd assumed that Tokyo was new to him. Apparently she'd been wrong.

Kenshin had inclined his head in response. "Many times," he said softly. He paused for a moment, his eyes tracking a sparrow as it flew across the temple roof. "I've... I've tried to come here at least once a week, that I have," he continued slowly. "Ever since arriving in this city."

Yuriko blinked, surprised. "You've been here a while, then," she said.

"A little more than two months, that I have."

"Two months and you still don't know how to use the subway ticket machines?"

Kenshin shifted his eyes sideways. "They're _complicated,_" he muttered defensively.

"Kenshin!" Yuriko laughed, and slapped him on the back.

"Oro!" The impact nearly knocked him off the bench.

Yuriko giggled and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him back upright. Even as small as he was, sometimes she suspected him of exaggerating her strength. It was a relief, though, knowing that he'd been in Tokyo already even before she'd dragged him up here from Kamakura. It meant that he'd know the city. It meant that he'd have a place to stay, now that he couldn't stay in the room next to hers any longer.

They sat side by side for a little while, just watching the crowds.

"So," Yuriko began. "What have you been doing in Tokyo?"

Kenshin turned towards her with an impish smile. "Looking for you," he said.

"For _two months?_ Come on!" Yuriko's voice was skeptical. "I'm in the phone book--"

"But I didn't know it until I found you, that I didn't," Kenshin added, still smiling at her.

Yuriko blurted a laugh, then sighed, feeling a hint of a lump in her throat. In a way, she had been looking for him as well. And she hadn't known it until she'd seen him, either.

"Romantic," she called him, and slid an arm around his back to give him a squeeze. "So, are you hungry yet?"

"A little."

"Great. Let's go, then."

o-o-o

They left the temple by way of Nakamise-dori, out between the long twin rows of souvenir shops. If anything, the crowds were even denser than before, thickening as people came out to enjoy the long summer evening. They walked slowly, taking their time, watching the crowds and glancing casually at the diverse array of trinkets for sale on either side.

Half way down the street Kenshin must have caught sight of something interesting, because he excused himself briefly and slipped through the throngs to one of the little stands. Yuriko waited, peering between the people, trying to see what it was he was buying.

When he returned, he was smiling excitedly.

"This is for you, Kaoru," he said, and laid a yard and a half of indigo silk onto her outstretched hand.

Yuriko looked at it for a moment, nonplussed. "A ribbon?"

"For your hair, that it is," Kenshin said. He was smiling at her still, his head tilted slightly to one side and a happy light in his eyes. "You had one like that when we first met. You loaned it to me one day, but I-- it got ruined because of me. I never got around to buying you a replacement, that I didn't."

"Oh," Yuriko said. "Thank you. Thank you, Kenshin, that's really sweet."

It was funny what people remembered, Yuriko thought as they walked on. She couldn't remember having owned such a ribbon at all. But she must have had one, must have loaned it to Kenshin at some point for some unfathomable reason, and the incident must have stuck in his mind.

Loaned it to him...

Yuriko wrinkled her forehead. Now that she thought about it, it _did_ seem like she'd done that once. She could imagine just how he would've looked, too, standing there with the ribbon in his hand, a look of utmost confusion on his face.

She smiled, suppressing a laugh, and ran the length of silk through her hands. Her own hair would make only a stub of a ponytail, far too short to be complimented well by a ribbon like this. Kenshin's, on the other hand...

"Hey Kenshin," she said. "It's too bad you can't go back to the apartment house; this ribbon would look fantastic in your hair."

Kenshin managed to look embarrassed, guilty, and horrified all at the same time.

"This blue, against that red?" She stretched out the ribbon between her hands and held it up beside his head, frowning at it as if appraising the color. "Maybe I should loan it to you again; what do you say?"

"I-if you really want to do that, Kaoru--"

"Silly! I'm _kidding!_" She caught him by the arm and drew him on down the street. "Anyway, it would be rude to give it back to you right after you've given it to me. Thanks, by the way," she added.

"You're most welcome, Kaoru," he replied smoothly. He was smiling a tiny smile as they walked, as if thinking of something that made him happy.

They reached the big outer gate at the end of Nakamise-dori, emerging at last from the crowd. The sun had gone down behind the buildings, leaving the strip of cloud that ran across the western sky glowing a fiery orange; above, in the darkening blue, the moon was a crescent of creamy brightness. Street-lights were beginning to flicker on, one by one, shining a pale violet-green for the first few minutes before they warmed to yellow.

Yuriko glanced around quickly to get her bearings and then led Kenshin down one of the cross streets. It was only maybe half a mile to the beef-pot place -- fortunate, because she was getting really hungry. Maybe she should've stopped to pick up a snack back at one of the souvenir shops.

She walked on by Kenshin's side, fingering the silk in her hands. It really was a nice ribbon, smooth and whisper-soft, and the color was just beautiful. She could easily imagine such a thing being her favorite ribbon, could easily imagine wearing her hair tied up with it. Could imagine pulling it from her ponytail and thrusting it at Kenshin, ordering him to take it, telling him it was just a loan, and that he had to give it back...

_-- Don't you forget and wander off --_

Yuriko's steps faltered.

"Kaoru?" Kenshin was looking back at her from a pace ahead, concern on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no, nothing," she replied hurriedly. "I just, um--" She looked down at the ribbon in her hand. "I should put this somewhere safe, that's all." She glanced into her shoulder-bag. There was a lot of junk in there; it was none too clean, and her hairbrush was sure to snag the silk if they came into contact. She poked around for a moment and pulled out a small hand-towel. That would do, Yuriko thought. She folded the ribbon carefully and wrapped it up in the square of terry-cloth, then tucked it into a corner of her bag.

"There," she said, and hurried to catch up with Kenshin.

They walked on, side by side. Kenshin was looking around at everything with that small happy smile on his face, as if being here and alive at this moment were the only thing he'd ever wanted. Yuriko watched him, sideways, a smile on her own lips as well. She knew why she had loaned him her ribbon, all those years ago. God, she had been so young then.

So young...

She had felt so young, at least. But Kenshin had looked pretty much the same as ever.

"Hey, Kenshin?" she began.

"What is it, Kaoru?"

"How old are you now? I mean, I've been trying to work it out, but..." She trailed off, hoping the question wouldn't sound too strange. If they'd known each other so well, she ought to be able to work out his age, oughtn't she?

Kenshin gave her a slight smile. "Thirty-eight," he said softly. "No-- thirty-nine now. I missed your birthday too, Kaoru, that I did." He looked down at his hands. "I missed so many of your birthdays."

Yuriko planted her feet on the sidewalk and for a moment she just stared at him. She'd thought he couldn't be more than twenty-five. She'd only been willing to renormalize that original guess upwards because she hadn't been able to reconcile such an age difference with her memories. Or with her lack of memories.

"Thirty-_nine?_" she said, incredulous. "_Thirty_-nine? With a face like that? That's impossible--"

And yet there was another flicker of memory there, a slight sense of deja vu, a sense that she'd had this conversation with him before. Kenshin was smiling a tiny amused smile, as if he knew. Well, he would know, wouldn't he.

"Wait--" Yuriko held up a hand, because she suddenly knew exactly where this conversation was going. "Don't say 'would forty make you happier,' because it wouldn't."

Kenshin's smile split into a grin, and he slipped his arm through hers.


	23. Implications and interpretations

**23. Implications and interpretations **

Yuriko strode along the sidewalk, a smile on her face and Kenshin by her side. It was twilight, almost dark, and her stomach had started growling persistently with hunger. But she'd had a fantastic evening so far, and it only promised to get better.

Kenshin looked more relaxed than she'd seen him all week. In some ways this situation was actually good, even if he wouldn't be able to stay at the apartment house tonight. He seemed more free out here on the streets, more able to be himself -- not needing to keep quiet, to censor his words as he had in the apartment house. They were finally getting their chance to talk alone together.

"It's just up here," she said to him as they neared the cross-street. "That restaurant I was thinking of." As they rounded the corner she gestured upwards to the restaurant's vertical red neon sign, then glanced back at him over her shoulder.

Kenshin had stopped, gazing up at the sign, his face gone blank save for a hint of puzzled surprise.

"Akabeko," he read aloud.

"Yeah. It's really good. Rika and Hitomi took me here for lunch once." She stepped back towards him a few paces and turned to look up at the sign as well. "They're the people I work with," she added. "Rika knows all the good restaurants around here."

"Has it been here for long?" Kenshin asked, his voice soft.

Yuriko shrugged. "It's not brand new. Why?"

He smiled faintly and shook his head, saying nothing.

"This is okay, isn't it?" she asked him, worried by the hint of sadness on his face. "I mean, you're not allergic to beef-pot or anything, are you?"

"No, no, of course not, Kaoru," Kenshin replied hastily. "Don't be silly -- going out for beef-pot with you is one of my favorite things, that it is."

"Oh. Good." Yuriko smiled with relief. "Come on then, let's go in."

o-o-o

Thirty miles south, in Kamakura, Maekawa Yoko thanked the cashier at the pastry stand and added another plastic bag to her already large collection. Wednesday was her big grocery-shopping day, what with her and her husband keeping the shop open late on Thursdays and the market being an absolute zoo on Fridays and Saturdays.

Yoko turned away from the stand and craned her neck, searching for her husband's sandy orange hair amidst the after-work crowd that filled the ground-floor grocery arcade of the department store.

"Aunt Yoko!"

Yoko turned at the familiar voice, catching sight of the young woman and waving her over. "Sae-chan! How are you, dear?"

"Fine, thanks, Aunt Yoko. And you?"

"Fine, dear, fine. Doing some grocery shopping?"

"Yeah. Hey-- I'm glad I saw you. Yuriko stopped by my place on her way to the train station on Sunday--" Sae paused to rummage in her purse, and pulled out a small gray flip-phone, "--and she forgot her phone. I was going to mail it off to her this afternoon but I got to the post office too late." She grimaced regretfully.

"Oh, that's fine, dear, I'll take it," Yoko replied, accepting the phone from her niece. "I can mail it off tomorrow." Yoko was certainly more free to leave the shop for an hour during the day than Sae was to leave her office.

"Oh, hello, Sae-chan. How are you doing?" Takeshi had returned, holding up a plastic grocery sack. "I got the prawns, love; was there anything else?"

Yoko smiled over at her husband. "No, love, that should do it. Sae-chan was just returning Yuriko's phone." She held up the device in one hand, waggling it so that the little plastic charm swung back and forth on its cord.

"Aha! So that's why she hasn't called." Takeshi shot a smile at his niece.

"That Yuriko," Yoko added, smiling and slowly shaking her head. "She must've still been all worked up over the marriage meeting." The poor girl had been a bundle of nerves all day Saturday, and Sunday hadn't been much better. It was no surprise that she'd started misplacing her things.

"I guess so," Sae said. "Although she didn't actually say anything about the marriage meeting. She was just sticking her head in for a minute to say she was off. What happened was that I had a visitor. Himura Kenshin-san. He's a... a cousin, I guess," she added hesitantly, her forehead wrinkling as if she wasn't quite sure. "I hadn't met him before. He said he grew up in the mountains somewhere near Kyoto, so he can't be that closely related."

"Oh? So Himura-san visited you too?" Yoko tilted her head, looking at Sae from under raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. He just showed up at my door. I figured he was in town for the festival, all dressed up like that."

"Aha! So that's why." Yoko chuckled, remembering Kenshin's oddly old-fashioned clothing. "I figured it was that, but I didn't want to ask."

"Heh. Yeah. He must've been practicing for it too. The whole time he was there he was talking like somebody out of an old samurai movie!" Sae covered her mouth with both hands, eyebrows arched with glee.

Yoko chuckled. Sometimes it took the younger generation to say the obvious things. "Eh. Kansai people, you know?" she replied, rather unfairly. Kenshin had had a funny way of talking, but he hadn't actually had a Kansai accent.

"Mm." Sae shrugged, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "I wound up doing most of the talking anyway," she added. "He didn't seem to want to talk about himself too much."

"Hmm." Takeshi had been silent up to now, his face thoughtful, letting his eyes wander over the truffles in the glass case of the chocolatier beside them. Now he shot Yoko a worried look.

"Takeshi love? What's up?" She hadn't realized he was listening. Now there was concern clear on his face. "You think something's wrong?"

"I don't... I don't know. There's just something a little odd...." Puzzlement had joined the concern, quirking Takeshi's pale eyebrows.

"Odd about what? About Himura-san just showing up to visit like that?"

Takeshi shrugged uncomfortably.

Yoko raised her eyebrows. "But you seemed so happy about it then." He had, really. She'd seen it when he'd answered the knock that Friday evening, seen his suppressed excitement, his quiet delight. And so she'd welcomed their visitor, in spite of his unannounced arrival, in spite of his odd dress and way of speaking.

"Well, he's got The Hair," Sae cut in as if it explained everything. Yoko could hear the capital letters.

"Yeah..." Takeshi said.

Yoko nodded decisively. "That was it, wasn't it."

"You can't fake hair like that," Sae added to Takeshi. "Redder than yours, redder than Yuriko's, redder than anyone's I've ever seen."

"And your grandmother's maiden name was Himura, wasn't it love?"

"It's not that," Takeshi said. "I just thought..." He trailed off, groping for words. "About the hair. I just thought Yuriko and I were the only ones."

"Maybe it skips generations," Sae said helpfully. "It skipped Grampa, right?"

Yoko nodded. Takeshi's parents -- Sae's grandparents -- had both had perfectly ordinary black hair.

Takeshi sighed. "Yeah, maybe. But it's just... I've just got the feeling that I've seen him somewhere before."

"Well, he is a cousin. Or something." Yoko couldn't quite remember exactly how Kenshin had said he was related to them.

"Yeah, and anyway, Yuriko knows him," Sae said.

"Knows him?" Yoko raised her eyebrows. If she'd never met Kenshin before, then how was it that her daughter knew him?

"Yeah. Does she ever! She was so happy to see him. And surprised, too, like _incredulous_ surprised. That's why she was so distracted." Sae gestured towards the cellphone in Yoko's hand. "When she saw him she just ran in, she didn't even stop to take off her shoes! I couldn't believe it -- I've never seen Yuriko react to someone like that. They must know each other from when we were all kids or something."

Takeshi was watching all this with a wary expression. "From when you were kids?"

"Oh my gosh, and Himura-san, he looked like he was going to cry! So happy to see her, like he'd thought he'd never see her again!" Sae grinned at the memory, glancing over at Takeshi. "Maybe from college. Or summer camp or something. He's not from Kamakura; I would've remembered that hair." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He seemed so relieved, somehow. I wondered if he was in some kind of trouble."

Takeshi raised his eyebrows.

"Well, anyway," Sae continued, "he's in good hands now."

"Good hands?" Yoko asked sharply.

"Yeah. Yuriko dragged him back to Tokyo with her."

"Hmm..." Takeshi looked worried again, echoing Yoko's own feelings. Visiting was one thing. But now this Himura Kenshin was in Tokyo with their daughter....

"I wouldn't worry," Sae continued, noticing the exchanged glance. "He's totally devoted to her. And Yuriko knows him."

Yoko met Takeshi's eyes again, in silence.

"But it was odd," Sae added, almost an afterthought. "He kept calling her Kaoru."

o-o-o

The Akabeko had been less crowded than Yuriko had feared. In fact, the waiter in the orange-and-white striped apron had led them to a table, taken their order, and brought them a pot of tea and a pair of cups within two minutes of their entering the restaurant.

The beef-pot itself had not taken long to arrive either. The waiter had set the shallow iron pot onto the burner in the center of their table with a flourish, coming dangerously close to sloshing scalding broth over the edge. He'd bowed, theatrically struck a long match, leaned down to light the flame that would keep the pot simmering away throughout the evening, and then bowed again, deeply. A girl in an identical apron had set the tray of other ingredients down onto the table with a minimum of fuss, given them a brief polite nod, and then strode back toward the kitchen.

"Oh, I just _love_ beef-pot!" Yuriko enthused, peering into the steam and poking at a bit of beef with her chopsticks as her stomach growled impatiently. She'd taken up the tray of yam noodles, tofu and vegetables almost immediately and dumped them all into the simmering broth. "I can't believe I don't do this more often!" She shot Kenshin a grin and set her chopsticks down again, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "We used to go all the time back when I was a kid," she continued. "It was like a big family tradition. We'd all get together: Sae and my parents and my aunt and uncle -- that's Sae's folks, back when they still lived near us -- and we'd all go to this great beef-pot place near the beach. Oh, it was so good!" She leaned back in her chair, grinning at the memory, then sat up as the waitress brought them the dipping bowls, a whole egg rolling around in each.

"Thanks," she said briefly to the waitress, then scooped up her egg and cracked it on the side of the dish. "So it was really great coming here with Rika and Hitomi," she continued, picking up her chopsticks again to beat the raw egg into a slurry. "Beef-pot's best with friends, you know?"

She glanced across at Kenshin, expecting him to nod knowingly. Instead he startled a bit, a weak smile flickering across his face.

Yuriko tilted her head to one side, watching him. He had looked down at his egg in apparent surprise, as if he'd only just noticed it. Now he occupied himself with cracking it open and studiously whisking it with his chopsticks.

Yuriko frowned. He'd turned quiet since they'd arrived at the restaurant; in her enthusiasm she hadn't quite noticed it until now. She watched him for a little while through the steam. She wondered if he was feeling guilty again about Motoko, or if he was just tired.

"I think it's ready, that I do, Kaoru," Kenshin said, breaking into her thoughts. He was looking at her encouragingly, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Oh! Right." Yuriko shook herself out of the reverie, wondering if her thoughts had shown on her face. She dipped into the pot and caught a bit of meat between her chopsticks, lifting it out and dunking it into the egg before bringing it to her lips.

"Ohh!" she exclaimed around the bite, a hand cupped in front of her mouth. It was exquisite. The beef was tender and perfectly cooked, its flavor mingling wonderfully with the egg and the salty-sweetness of the broth.

Kenshin smiled back at her and popped a chunk of tofu into his mouth.

For a while they just ate, exchanging a few words about the food but mostly concentrating on chewing. The familiar flavors brought back memories for Yuriko: memories of the loud and rowdy meals of her childhood, memories of romping on the beach with Sae, late in the season after the tourists had gone. On those special days their parents would call them up for dinner as the sun was setting, and the two girls would race up the beach to the restaurant, arriving sandy and breathless and rosy-cheeked from the chill. Beef-pot was good any time of the year, but it was best in cold weather.

Her lunch here with Rika and Hitomi had been a bit more sedate. With only the three of them it had taken a little while before the laughter had started to flow, but flow it had, eventually. Beef-pot was best with friends, and the more the merrier.

Soon there was little left in the pot but broth and a few stray noodles, flecked with the smaller slivers of scallion. Yuriko reached in with her chopsticks and caught the last mushroom. She noticed that Kenshin had stopped eating already; he had laid his chopsticks neatly across his dipping bowl and folded his hands on the edge of the table in front of him, gazing at the pot in the center of the table with a thoughtful expression on his face. Thoughtful, and a little bit sad.

"Now _that,_" she said, "was a beef-pot." She grinned at Kenshin and laid her own chopsticks down across her bowl.

He smiled back at her, scrunching up his eyes, but there was something distant about that smile. It reminded her of their evening with Hana and Motoko, two nights ago over tea. Kenshin had been smiling then too, but there'd been a wall behind his eyes. As if he'd been holding some private emotion tightly under control.

She drank some tea, watching him from the corner of her eye. He had lowered his eyes to his folded hands, a hint of the smile still lingering on his lips.

"So Kenshin," Yuriko said, setting down her cup. "What brought you to Tokyo? I mean, why did you come here? Something for work? School? Family? Have you got friends here?"

He met her eyes uncomfortably and then looked away, saying nothing. She was about to ask him another question when he spoke.

"It wasn't..." he began, and lowered his eyes to the table. "Coming to this city was not intentional, that it was not."

"Huh?" Yuriko looked at him blankly. How could he come to Tokyo without intending to? Then it clicked, and she grimaced in sympathy. In a way, Yuriko herself had not come to Tokyo intentionally. It had been the first offer of a permanent job that she'd had in more years than she cared to think about, and she'd jumped at it. At the time, she hadn't quite internalized the fact that it probably meant moving to Tokyo for good.

"You had to move, then," she said knowingly. "I know how it is. And it's so hard to make a new set of friends when you've just arrived."

Kenshin said nothing, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. He picked up his chopsticks to poke idly at a bit of scallion that had been left behind in the egg residue in his dipping bowl.

Yuriko watched him, a flicker of concern mingling with a growing curiosity. There was something more to it than that. Why did he seem not to want to talk about it?

"I go back for visits," she told him. "You know that, from Sae's place." This was how she coped with being away from her family. Perhaps all Kenshin needed was an example of how it could be done. "I try to go every few weeks. It's close, so it's not hard. It just takes a little initiative."

He sat there unmoving, still not meeting her eyes, his lips pressed together slightly.

"You can't go back," she guessed, a twinge of apprehension joining the concern and a growing sense that she had stumbled upon something important here.

Kenshin dipped his head once, slightly. A small nod.

"Do you have any friends here? Anyone you know?"

"No," he breathed. "Everyone's gone."

_Everyone?_ Yuriko looked at him, surprised. "But what about--" she began. The memory was right there in front of her eyes: the memory of Kyoto, where they'd been surrounded by their friends. Yahiko. Misao-chan. All the rest of them. And Sanosuke, carrying a critically wounded Kenshin back from battle--

"What about _them?_" she finished, ignoring the now-familiar clenching of her stomach at the memory of that sight.

He looked up at her sharply, eyes wide as if he'd been shocked by what she'd said. "You--?"

"Come on; they're not _gone,_" Yuriko said, echoing his last word intentionally. She hadn't expected melodrama, not from Kenshin. There was no way all those people were just _gone_. He could have lost track of them, could have moved away and failed to call; heck, she was probably even more guilty of that than he was. But the way he was acting...

Maybe he'd alienated them all. Maybe he'd done something inexcusable and left in shame.

No, Yuriko thought, dismissing the idea. Not Kenshin. If Kenshin had done something like that, he would not have left in shame. He would have stayed, and done everything in his power to put it right again.

"I mean, look: they've got to be around somewhere," Yuriko continued. "It doesn't matter how long it's been; friends are friends! We'll look them up. I'll help you. And then we get on a train. It's that easy," she finished triumphantly.

Kenshin was looking back at her as if he hadn't understood a word she'd said. "But they're gone," he repeated numbly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Yuriko replied. "Maybe some of them--"

"No," he said again, leaning forward intently and catching her with his gaze. "Everyone's gone. _Everyone._" His eyes were unwalled, unguarded, a raw darkness in their depths. "Except you," he added softly. "Kaoru love."

Yuriko stared back, caught in his bottomless eyes, and for a single vertiginous moment the world _shifted_. As if she'd glanced away from reality for a second, and when she'd looked back everything had been just a little bit different than she remembered.

Yuriko blinked and sat back, taking a breath and looking around briefly as if she'd forgotten what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry." Kenshin's voice was soft. She looked sharply back up at him.

He had lowered his eyes to the table, a regretful half-smile on his lips. "It's not a thing that you should have to worry about, that it isn't." He looked back up at her and smiled more fully, crinkling up the corners of his eyes. "What would you like to do tonight, Kaoru?" he asked her cheerfully.

Yuriko hesitated, trying to collect her thoughts. Everything around her was as it should be, as it had been when they'd started eating, as it had been when they'd entered the restaurant. When they'd entered the Akabeko. And yet somehow a feeling of wrongness was still lingering in the back of her mind, a feeling that things were not the way they'd been a moment before.

"Kaoru?"

"What?" she said. "Sorry! No. Um. Tonight?" She pulled herself together at last and cast a smile in Kenshin's direction, laughing a bit at herself for zoning out like that. She must just be tired from work.

"I don't know," she continued. "We could go walking or something. By the river, maybe." She brightened. "Yes! Let's? It's really nice down there, and the view's so pretty at night."

"That sounds very nice, that it does," Kenshin said with a nod. He was smiling again, and there was a soft sparkle in his eyes, replacing the earlier darkness.

Yuriko smiled back, relieved that the moment seemed to have passed. But as she turned to wave at the waiter who had seated them she felt another tiny flicker of wrongness in her mind, a feeling that he too was a slightly different person than he should have been.


	24. City on the edge of forever

**24. City on the edge of forever **

"Love? Dinner's ready." Maekawa Yoko called up the stairs from the dining room as she set the plates neatly on the table. She tilted her head to one side, waiting for a reply. None came.

"Love?"

Still no reply. He was probably on the computer again. That, or looking through seed catalogs for the shop. Yoko shook her head and started up the stairs.

She found Takeshi squatting by the large closet in the upstairs hallway, rummaging through a box. There were others scattered around him, their flaps open and their contents sticking out willy-nilly.

"Takeshi love, what are you doing?" Yoko sighed and walked down the hall, shaking her head to herself. "Dinner's ready. Come on down or it's going to get cold."

Takeshi sighed, balancing a stack of old photo albums on one knee to wave a hand at the mess of boxes. "It's the photos. From the family." He looked up at Yoko over the tops of his reading glasses. "I just know I've seen him before. If he's a relative, he might be in one of these. Maybe at Shinichi-kun's wedding. A distant cousin or something."

"You mean Himura-san?" Yoko lifted her skirt and stepped over one of the boxes, tilting her head sideways to look at the old album on the top of the stack on her husband's knee. "But aren't those your grandmother's albums?"

Takeshi sighed. "Yeah. This is going to take ages." He lifted the top album in his stack, then the one underneath, checking the dates. "And these are all too old." He flipped up the next one and sighed. "I should just do this after..."

"After dinner? Good." Yoko had stepped away from him to look at the labels on the other boxes. She glanced back with a smile.

Takeshi was crouching unmoving, his gaze fixed on something that had been sandwiched between two of the albums.

Yoko's smile turned to puzzlement. "Love?"

Takeshi didn't respond.

What had he found? Yoko stepped back over a box to look down past his shoulder. It was an old-fashioned bamboo picture frame with a black-and-white photo behind the glass. Yoko tilted her head to see the image past the reflection of the hallway light.

It was almost like a studio photo, the way it had been posed. There was a pretty young woman in a kimono seated on a chair in the center, flanked by a boy on one side and a tall, rough-looking young man on the other. And standing behind the girl's left shoulder...

"That's him all right," Yoko said, reaching down to tilt the frame in Takeshi's hand. It was all the same, all almost identical: the old-fashioned clothing; the sword at his waist; the unruly long hair, light-colored on the black-and-white film. And the shocking cross-shaped scar on his cheek.

"Same costume and everything," she continued. "Must be from another festival." That would explain the costumes, anyway; it wasn't just Kenshin who was dressed in traditional clothing in that photo. "Do you know who these other kids are?"

Takeshi didn't reply.

"So that's why you recognize him," Yoko added, straightening up again. "But why's it in with your grandmother's stuff?" And why was it in black and white?

"Grandma Harumi's..." Takeshi ran his thumbs gently down the edges of the bamboo frame, then flipped it over in a sudden movement. There was a column of faded writing on the back, done in precise and graceful brushstrokes.

Yoko raised her eyebrows and peered down to read the kanji. 'Grandmother and grandfather before they were married. Meiji 11,' followed by a question mark in parentheses.

_Meiji 11..._

The back of Yoko's neck started to prickle. "What-?" she began. The black-and-white image had been faded, as if it were old. Very old.

"That's Grandma Harumi's handwriting." Takeshi's words sounded as if they were coming from far away. He flipped the photo back over, touched the glass gently with a single forefinger. The albums slid off his knee and tumbled to the floor, ignored.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

Their eyes met.

"Yuriko."

o-o-o

The river was all darkness and reflections. Kenshin gazed pensively out at it, watching the oily-smooth surface ripple and shift, trying to make out the subtle downstream flow amidst the multicolored splashes of light.

"Isn't it pretty?" Yuriko was standing beside him, leaning her forearms on the top of the concrete barricade, looking out at the buildings on the far side of the water. "That one's the Asahi building," she continued, shifting her arms to point across at a black multistorey slab with a weird golden blob on the top. "But that's the only one I know."

Kenshin nodded noncommittally. They had come straight down here to the river after leaving the Akabeko, had strolled along beside it for ten, fifteen minutes. Yuriko had told him it was right on the way to the subway station, but he'd known that already. She hadn't needed to convince him to come. She had been excited about it, and so he'd been more than happy to agree. And the path by the riverside was indeed lovely: tidy and paved, lined with benches and ornamental plum trees, well-lit by electric lanterns on ornate iron poles.

The dark water flowed on below. Kenshin could make out only the barest hints of the motion, but it was there. He knew it was there. This water was moving. Moving past, endlessly, flowing down to lose itself in the sea.

Kaoru had made a quip once, walking by the water, that you could never fall into the same river twice. When he'd looked at her oddly she'd explained that it was a line from a book, and that she wasn't entirely sure what it meant. Something philosophical, she'd supposed. But this wasn't even the Arakawa any more. The main course of the great river had been diverted eastward some time near the end of Meiji, apparently to protect the heart of the city from flooding. This remnant was called the Sumidagawa now. Kenshin had read about the Sumidagawa, in the library back in those first days, back in May when he'd still had the audacity to hope that all this might not be real.

He leaned on the concrete and looked downward. It wasn't a sheer drop down to the water's surface; there was a wide ledge down below, low enough to be invisible from the pathway behind them and wide enough that a long row of tiny huts had been built along it. The urban equivalent of peasants, Kenshin thought. He had noticed these huts before, had seen others just like them in Ueno Park, carefully constructed of wood and blue sheeting.

The lights of the buildings opposite glinted brightly on the water, glowing like fire. Kenshin blinked at the glow and took an uneasy breath. He had read about the Sumidagawa. He had read about the people who had died in this river.

The city had been burning. It had been natural for the people to panic, to flee toward the river. Few had made it that far: most had perished in the fire, the fire that had rained from the sky and turned all of Tokyo into a conflagration. And even those who had thrown themselves into the water had been boiled alive, the river transformed into a sheet of flame.

Kenshin swallowed and gripped the top of the barricade, eyes shifting uneasily on the dark surface of the water. There had been photographs. But the descriptions alone had been enough.

Some factions of the Ishin Shishi had wanted to burn Kyoto. Katsura had been against it, but in the end a few fires had been started anyway in the chaos of the fighting. They had been scattered, unorganized; they had been contained, and the city had largely been spared. The burning of Tokyo, on the other hand: that had been well planned. And the scale of it... Kenshin could imagine a hundred and forty dead in a single night. A thousand times that...

He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the images. This had been intentional. This had been _planned_. Perhaps it had even been inspired, inspired by the handiwork of nature, the other time Tokyo had burned.

There hadn't been photographs from the earthquake. But there had been witnesses. The Sumidagawa had been dyed red.

There had been times when the streets of Kyoto had run red as well.

Kenshin forced himself to open his eyes, forced himself to look down onto the smooth dark surface of the water. Yuriko was standing just to his right, gazing out at the lights of the city on the far side of the river. A young couple was walking past behind them, talking and laughing brightly.

Time had moved on, he told himself. Yuriko, the young couple-- none of them had even been born the last time Tokyo had burned. Time had moved on, cleansing the city of the memories of destruction, just as the Sumidagawa had swept itself clean. Time had moved on and the people were happy now, carefree, safe and joyful. As they had been in the Meiji era. He had seen the transformation take place around him, as the memories of the horrors of the revolution had gradually faded, as the children born into an era of peace had grown toward adulthood, building their lives in this thriving city.

Until their happiness had been destroyed again by earthquake and fire.

No, Kenshin told himself. Earthquakes happened. There was no way they could be prevented. But the external wars... It had been the external wars that had led to Tokyo's second destruction.

An era of peace. The words felt bitter now, now that he knew what that era of peace had turned into. That era of peace had been but one brief moment in the vastness of time, and time had gone on, gone on to war and destruction. Why shouldn't the same thing happen again? How would this era of peace look in fifty years' time? A hundred years' time? When would the Sumidagawa carry its next burden of corpses down to the sea?

Had any of it been worth it? Had the chaos of the revolution been worth it, for that brief era of peace?

Kenshin's eyes prickled and he turned them hurriedly upward, toward the dark sky. He knew the night was mostly clear -- there had been but a few scattered clouds in the sky at sunset and the weather hadn't changed since then -- but he still couldn't see the stars. There were too many lights nearby.

"What are you thinking about?"

He startled a little at Yuriko's voice, and made a quick mental check of his expression. He hoped he hadn't let his thoughts show on his face. Yuriko shouldn't have to deal with such things.

"Nothing," he said softly, looking back down at the water, keeping his face carefully blank. "The river. Time."

"Time," she echoed. He could hear the smile in her voice. "It does seem timeless, doesn't it." She reached over and took his hand, lacing her fingers between his. Kenshin blinked, startled, but didn't pull away.

"I wish..." she started.

Kenshin turned to look at her, suppressing the split-second feeling of wrongness when he saw that her face was not Kaoru's. She was still looking out at the buildings opposite, a half-embarrassed smile on her face.

"What do you wish, Kaoru?"

She gave a small laugh. "Nothing," she said, and shook her head. "I just wish we could make time stand still, sometimes." She turned and smiled at him ruefully. "I've got work in the morning. We should probably head back."

o-o-o

Time, Yuriko thought as she reached the top of the hill and turned up the short walkway to the apartment house. There was never enough time.

She and Kenshin had ridden the subway back to Yanaka together. She'd made him buy his own ticket, walking him through the operation of the ticket machine one painfully slow step at a time. He'd acted as if he'd never even seen a touch-screen before. She was starting to suspect him of leading her on.

They'd laughed and chatted on the train, walked back hand in hand as far as the neighborhood park. They had said their good-nights there, and parted.

It hadn't been easy for her to turn away. She had wanted to stay with him all night. She had wanted to stay with him forever.

But time had been moving on, and she'd needed to get home. She didn't want to wind up sleep-deprived and walking around like a zombie at work tomorrow. And Kenshin had still needed to get back to wherever it was he was staying. He'd promised to meet her tomorrow morning, there in the park on her way to work.

Yuriko smiled at the memory and eased open the door to the apartment house, as silently as she could. The lights were off in the dining room -- a relief, since it was usually Motoko studying in there at this hour -- but the blue flicker of light from the television had been visible through the high windows of the lounge.

She slipped off her shoes and stepped into her house-slippers, then turned to tiptoe across the foyer and into the hall toward the bathroom. If she could just brush her teeth and make it up to her room without running into anyone--

"Yu-chan!"

Yuriko nearly jumped out of her skin. "Shhh!" she hissed, hurrying Hana back through the doorway into the lounge. She glanced paranoically up and down the hall, then slid the partition closed behind them. "Hana-chan! Shush! You'll wake everyone up!"

"Hi, Yuriko-san."

Yuriko startled again. But it was only Mei, another one of her housemates, sitting nonchalantly on a cushion in the middle of the room, her backpack and violin case lying on the tatami beside her. The girl must've been waylaid by Hana as soon as she'd gotten home from the conservatory.

Hana was pouting at her. "I'm not gonna wake people up. It's only ten, anyway. Where's Kenshin-san? She was going to watch the Shinsengumi rerun with me. It's over now." She gestured to the television against the wall. The closing credits were just ending, the screen flickering over to advertisements. Hana walked over and switched off the set.

_She._ Hana had said _she_. That meant she didn't know. And Mei was just hanging out, a mild-mannered expression on her long bespectacled face. That meant Motoko hadn't told the whole house, at least not yet. Yuriko sighed with relief.

"She's not coming back tonight," Yuriko said. "She's-- she's staying with some other relatives."

"Oh." Hana looked sad, almost distraught. "I thought she was going to be here. It was the first part of the Ikeda-ya story, too." She sighed with disappointment, then looked up at Yuriko again, her brown eyes earnest. "When will she be back, then?"

Yuriko looked away, feeling bad. "I don't know," she lied. "She'll probably stay with them for the rest of her visit to Tokyo. It's better, you know? They've got a house and a spare room; it's better than taking up that spare room here, since Takamori-san's trying to rent it out anyway."

"But will she come visit again?" Hana cut in, increasingly upset. "She doesn't think she's in the way here, does she? 'Cos she's not! I _like_ her. We _all_ like her! Right, Mei-san?"

Mei nodded in agreement, her long black hair sliding smoothly across her shoulders.

"Hana-chan, relax! She'll come back to visit!" Yuriko had in no way expected Hana to be so upset about Kenshin's departure. "Or we can meet up somewhere. It's just better this way. She-- Her other relatives, she hasn't seen them in a long time either. Don't worry!"

"Hm." Hana looked truculent, and suddenly very child-like in her short haircut. "Well, let me know when you're getting together again, okay?"

"Okay. Sure."

Hana smiled, almost shyly. "Thanks, Yu-chan."

Yuriko smiled back. "Sure." She sighed. "I'd better get ready for bed," she added, reaching out to slide open the door to the hallway. "Work in the morning."

Hana nodded. "Yeah. Me too." Then she sighed, looking a bit regretful. "Hey, Yu-chan? I'm sorry about that, just now. I was just..." She broke off for a moment, unhappy. "I just don't want Kenshin-san to feel like she can't hang out with us here."

Yuriko sighed, feeling like a heel. There was no way she was going to make Kenshin go through this cross-dressing charade any longer, and that meant she was going to have to disappoint Hana. And she'd known it already, which meant she'd just lied to the girl again.

"Thanks, Hana-chan," she replied. "I'll tell her what you said. It'll mean a lot to her."

Hana smiled happily, making Yuriko feel even worse.

"Good night." Yuriko gave the younger girl a last friendly smile, nodded to Mei, and turned right down the hall toward the bathroom.

She made it through her evening toilette and back up to the second-floor hallway without further incident. She was reaching out to slide open the door to her room when she hesitated.

Kenshin wouldn't be coming back here. But his things would still be in the spare room.

Yuriko withdrew her hand and continued a few quiet paces down the hallway.

She'd only been in there twice since Kenshin's arrival: Sunday evening, to help him lay out the futon, and Monday morning, as he slept, to leave him a note. She slid open the door and entered the small square room, flicking on the light and sliding off her house slippers before stepping onto the tatami.

The window was wide open. Yuriko crossed the floor and slid it shut, then turned to look at the room's meager contents.

The futon and quilt were neatly folded, stacked against the middle of the wall to the right of the window. Yuriko knelt in front of the stack of fabric, noticing belatedly that she'd never even given Kenshin a cushion to sit on in here. On top of the bedding was her own spare yukata, freshly washed and smelling of sunshine, and over that her blue denim dress and white blouse had been carefully laid. On top of the blouse were her two hairpins, lying side-by-side, their blue enameled flowers vivid against the white cloth.

Kenshin must have changed out of these clothes before Motoko had discovered him. Again, Yuriko wondered why. She hadn't pressed the question this afternoon in front of the subway station, not after seeing how upset Kenshin had been, and after that it had slipped her mind.

God, she thought, Motoko must have run him out of the house. Otherwise, he would have collected these other things. She looked down at the small cluster of objects on the floor beside the folded futon. Here were her makeup and tube of lipgloss, along with the note she'd written for him on Monday morning and a small sheaf of folded paper, its corners and creases starting to fuzz with wear. Aside from that, there was only a toothbrush, a sliver of soap wrapped in paper, an empty plastic vending-machine bottle, clean but looking the worse for wear, and a plastic grocery sack, smoothed out and folded neatly into a square.

He'd really been traveling light in Kamakura, Yuriko thought. For some reason the thought made her anxious. She remembered suddenly how exhausted he'd looked that first night, and then the next morning when she'd watched him sleeping how the tension had gone but had left behind a kind of fragile vulnerability. Kenshin shouldn't be out there alone in this night. He should be here with her.

She'd wanted to stay with him forever.

Yuriko hugged herself, closing her eyes. She missed him acutely, and they'd only been apart for three-quarters of an hour. She could see his face in her mind, could hear the sound of his voice, and even the thought of him made her heart race.

Yuriko opened her eyes. This was more than a long-lost friendship. She was becoming obsessed.

_Kenshin..._

She could remember the feeling of his hand, wrapped around hers as they'd walked up from the subway station. She could remember his eyes, when he'd given her the ribbon.

She had never had a boyfriend. She and Kenshin had just been kids together, right? But this... this was starting to become more than that. And she still couldn't remember how they'd met.

Yuriko swallowed and picked up the plastic grocery sack, shaking out the folds and opening it up, quickly gathering Kenshin's belongings. She slipped the two hairpins into a pocket on her skirt and got to her feet, scooping up her blouse and dress and spare yukata under one arm. She'd deal with the futon in the morning. Yuriko looked around the room one last time, then stepped back into her house-slippers and out, sliding the door shut behind her.

These new emotions weren't just unsettling. They were a little bit terrifying.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_-kawa, -gawa - river _


	25. Remembrance

**25. Remembrance **

Kenshin woke at dawn, as was his habit. He stretched and rubbed a hand across his face, then got to his feet, taking a moment to gaze up at the bright blues and yellows of the sunrise sky.

He had slept fitfully, sitting upright in a corner of the park with his back propped against a fence. But the sun was rising now, and the warm bright light, the soft breeze wafting among the bushes, the pure and happy sounds of the birds singing in the trees were enough to dispel the stale taste of fragmented dreams from his mind.

For a little while he just stood and watched the light, letting his eyes drink in the brilliant yellow of the sky near the horizon, letting them play across the salmon-pink edges of the clouds. His eyes were calm, his face relaxed and expressionless. For this little while, there was just the sunrise.

It was a new day. The sun was rising and before too long Yuriko would be coming through this park, on her way to the subway station for another day of work. For now, though, this morning didn't have to mean anything yet. The emotions of the previous evening -- the despair, the fear, the desperate, panicky hope -- he knew they would return all too soon. But for now, for just this sunrise, Kenshin let himself be numb.

The molten rim of the sun appeared in a chink between two of the trees and Kenshin blinked, turning his eyes away from the eastern sky and stretching his arms up over his head. He shook out the wrinkles in his hakama, smoothed down the magenta fabric of his kimono, then picked up his sakabatou off the ground and slid the sheath through the ties of his hakama into its accustomed spot at his waist. He picked his way out from among the shrubs and into the open, absently working out the stiffness in his bruised right hip and untying his hair as he went.

The morning routine had become second nature over the past two months. He shoved the fingers of both hands through his hair, smoothing it back from his face before retying it at the nape of his neck. He'd developed an unconscious instinct for spotting the public water fountains that dotted the city; now he rinsed his hands, splashed a little water onto his face, and drank from a cupped palm.

He'd left his water bottle in the apartment house, along with his toothbrush and soap and the small plastic grocery sack he'd saved from a shopping trip to use as a traveling bag. It didn't really matter; such conveniences could be replaced easily enough. Of more concern was what he was going to do with himself for the next two and a half hours.

He ought to be cooking Yuriko's breakfast right now, assembling her bento lunch, even doing laundry or cleaning something. But after his encounter with Motoko yesterday, that was no longer an option.

Kenshin laid a palm absently on the end of his sakabatou's hilt and glanced around, then set off across the park, toward the street that ran along its western edge. It really was a lovely morning, he thought, and there was no point just standing around. At this early hour there was very little traffic on the roads, and a walk would be a pleasant way to pass the time.

He passed a few shops and a row of houses, wandered up a quiet avenue, meandered along the brow of a hill beside the tile-topped wall of a largish local shrine. He paused at the hill's crest, looking out over a wide expanse of parkland, dotted with the stone monuments and tall narrow name-boards of a cemetery. Peaceful, he thought, and started down the earthen track between the trees, covering a yawn with one hand.

Perhaps he ought to have gone to sleep a little earlier last night, Kenshin thought as he made his way down the tree-lined path. He'd been in a thoughtful mood after he and Yuriko had parted at the edge of the park, and he hadn't felt ready to turn in just yet. He'd wound up sitting on one of the swings in the children's playground, rocking himself idly back and forth, looking up into the night sky. Picking out the brighter stars from among the scattered clouds.

Yanaka was one of the better parts of Tokyo for that. Most of the city was so ablaze with light at all hours of the night that all but the brightest stars were invisible. Even in Yanaka, though, the situation wasn't very good. He remembered vividly the night sky above the Kamiya dojo, the velvet blackness filled with a thousand brilliant stars, the glittering wash of the Milky Way cutting across the sky like a river. It had been like that from the hills where he'd camped north of Kamakura, less than a week ago. From his swing in the park the previous night he'd been able to spot a good number of the brighter stars, but he hadn't been able to see the Milky Way at all.

Kenshin smiled a little. It was like a permanent Tanabata.

The first stars he'd spotted last night had been the two lovers, Orihime bright and blue directly overhead, Hikoboshi south and a little to the west. He'd thought immediately of the old tale of those ill-fated gods, separated by the river of the Milky Way for all but one night of the year, the night of Tanabata when the heavenly river disappeared. The seventh night of the seventh month.

Kenshin had reached the foot of the gentle hill he'd been descending. Here the long row of old cypresses came to an end, giving way to a dense jumble of buildings. He paused briefly to glance around, then crossed the street and continued down a narrow lane that threaded through the residential neighborhood beyond.

Tanabata was almost two weeks past now, by the new calendar. He'd seen the branches of bamboo, seen the huge and brightly colored paper ornaments with their long streamers hanging on display in the market streets all over Tokyo. By the old lunar calendar, though, Tanabata was still a few days away.

The tale of Tanabata was true in a sense, if you went by the old calendar. Kenshin had seen it; the whole world must have seen it, the old legend played out in metaphor on the night sky year after year. On the seventh night of the seventh month, it was the light of the half-moon that made the river of stars disappear.

He reached another crossroads and turned automatically south again. He was coming into Ueno, not far from the back edge of the grand old park. He liked this neighborhood. It had trees.

Kenshin had always thought that the old calendar was more straightforward -- certainly for a rurouni, when he could read the date to within a day with a simple glance at the moon. Not that it really mattered, of course. Time flowed on, however the people chose to measure it.

At this hour Ueno was quiet, but not deserted. There were a few early risers with time to spare strolling about in the morning sunshine, as well as the occasional young man or woman in a hurry pedaling vigorously past on a bicycle. Kenshin smiled softly at them as he entered the park, keeping to the left of the broad paved walkway and pausing or stepping aside as needed to let the others pass. Counted by either calendar, he had more than enough time to spare.

He paused to watch a small group of elderly Chinese on a sunny patch of lawn, moving in unison in a kind of strange slow dance. It was almost like a kata without swords, slowed to the edge of what was possible, as if they sought to freeze the moment and hold it in suspension, eternally. As if they sought to stop the flow of time.

Kenshin's lips thinned in what wasn't quite a smile. These people were old enough to have lived through the last war, to have seen first-hand the vastness of time. They should know that time would move on, no matter how they sought to catch hold of this brief moment.

Kenshin glanced up, checking the position of the sun. Not quite six yet.

It was strange how this one brief moment could seem so interminably long.

He sighed and walked on, stepping up his pace a little as he passed the large bronze statue of Saigo Takamori. For some reason he found that statue vaguely disconcerting. The first time he'd laid eyes on it he'd stood and stared, mouth agape, for a full minute. It wasn't odd that there should be a statue of Saigo here; it was just strange somehow to see the commander of the imperial forces from the battle of Toba-Fushimi clad in an informal bronze kimono with a sword at his hip, walking a small bronze dog. It made Kenshin want to duck his head and sidle away, as if he were afraid of being recognized.

He shook his head, smirking a little at the foolishness of his own reaction, and continued along the sunny pavement. The dawn chorus had given way to the buzz of the cicadas in the trees, but he still had almost an hour to kill before Yuriko would even be out of bed.

Together with the trek back up the long shallow hill to Yanaka, a lap or two around Ueno Park should do it. And it was a nice morning. This moment should be something to enjoy.

Kenshin straightened his shoulders, smiled softly to himself, and walked on.

o-o-o

Yuriko's first thought upon waking had been of Kenshin.

She had run downstairs and raced through her morning toilette, nipping into the kitchen to put a couple slices of bread into the toaster before skipping back up the stairs to get dressed.

Kenshin would be waiting for her in the park. The faster she could be ready, the more time they'd have together this morning before she had to catch her train to work.

Yuriko dragged her brush through her hair, simultaneously glancing around her room for the things she'd need to pack up for work. There wasn't much; she'd gotten back late enough last night that she hadn't had the occasion to take anything out of her shoulder-bag. She dropped her brush into the bag, snatched up her makeup and lipgloss, and trotted back down the stairs.

There hadn't been any coffee ready. Yuriko grumbled to herself as she fished a teabag out of the pantry and dropped it into a cup, following it with a stream of hot water from the electric kettle. She wasn't willing to take the extra time to set up the coffee machine and wait for it to percolate. Not this morning.

She plucked her cooling toast from the toaster and popped in another pair of slices. Kenshin had made a lovely breakfast for her two mornings running; the least she could do was to bring him some toast.

Yuriko scraped the worst of the charring off the surface of her toast and slathered on some marmalade, chomping down on a corner of it and chewing even as she carried her plate and teacup to the dining room table. She ate quickly, drinking down her tea as soon as it had cooled enough, then jumped up again and headed back into the kitchen for Kenshin's toast.

Like her own, it was charred. Yuriko scowled at the dial on the toaster. Someone was always changing the setting on her, turning it down so that she had to readjust it upward every morning. She liked her toast to be _toasty,_ more than just warmed-over bread. Somehow she always wound up overshooting and burning it.

For herself it didn't matter; she just scraped off the charcoal and ate the rest. For Kenshin, she wanted better. But time was passing, and four minutes spent making another round of toast were four minutes she wouldn't be able to spend with him.

Yuriko sighed resignedly and scraped the charring off into the sink, then spread marmalade over the toast. She put the two slices face-to-face and wrapped them up in a paper towel, then hurriedly scrubbed off her dishes.

Finally. Done. Yuriko glanced at her watch, grabbed Kenshin's toast and her shoulder-bag, threw on her shoes, and hurried out into the bright morning sunshine.

o-o-o

Kenshin sat on the swing, rocking himself idly back and forth, looking up at the morning sky. He'd been sitting there since seven. He'd made it back to the park in Yanaka just a little too early.

He sighed, schooling his thoughts to patience. It was hard not to get worked up about Yuriko's impending arrival. He'd studiously avoided thinking about it in more than the most abstract terms all morning long, knowing that he'd only wind up torturing himself over it. He didn't want to hope too strongly.

Still, there was no denying it. Yuriko was remembering. That was the inescapable conclusion of the previous night.

The thought filled him with a wild, dangerous hope.

Her reaction to his age hadn't surprised him, hadn't surprised him in the least because it was exactly the same as it had been the first time around. Kenshin found himself smiling again at the memory. Her reaction had been the same, and somehow it had triggered a further recognition. Somehow Yuriko had remembered the rest of that old conversation.

_Don't say 'would forty make you happier.'_

It was exactly what he'd been about to say. He'd had to suppress an urge to hurl his arms around her and weep with relief.

And there'd been something else, too. Over dinner last night, over beef-pot at the Akabeko, she'd said 'what about _them_.' As if... as if she'd remembered...

Kenshin's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes briefly, fighting against the rush of emotion. That was the dangerous thing about hope. It left him open to everything else.

He opened his eyes and forced a deep breath, forced himself to relax. He just had to wait. He just had to wait and see what happened. Yuriko would--

_She's here._ Kenshin looked up with a gasp, throwing himself off the swing and breaking into a run toward the street that bounded the southeast corner of the park. It hadn't exactly been a sound, hadn't exactly been a feeling, but as soon as he'd looked he'd spotted her auburn hair through the bushes and the chinks in the fence.

He was there just as she came around the edge of the fence.

"Good morning, Kaoru," he said.

"Kenshin!" A delighted smile lit up her face, making her blue eyes shine. Kaoru's eyes. Kaoru's smile, brighter than the sun.

Kenshin's heart thudded and for a moment he couldn't move, couldn't even think, this one brief moment stretching out to eternity. She was here.

"I brought you some toast," she was saying, offering him something flat and square wrapped in soft brown paper. Steam had moistened the middle of the wrapping.

"Th- thank you," he managed, shaking himself out of the trance and smiling back up at her. She handed him the little parcel and he unwrapped it, revealing two singed slices of bread with some clear sticky citrus-smelling substance oozing out around the edges.

"Thank you, Kaoru," he repeated, and bit into it.

It was just another unfamiliar new food of this era, some derivative of bread with a kind of astringent citrus paste in between. The flavors were new and different. But they didn't matter. They didn't matter at all.

The toast had been burnt.

It was only a little charred, as if she'd scraped off the worst of it, but there was no hiding that flavor. That familiar flavor.

_Kaoru..._

And it wasn't even that flavor that was important, that singed taste that had seemed to accompany all of Kaoru's cooking. It was the memories that came along with it.

Kenshin's throat constricted, his vision blurring as a wave of emotion crashed over him.

o-o-o

"Come on!" Yuriko yelled defensively. "It's not that bad!"

Kenshin had taken a single bite of the toast and nearly choked, his eyes starting to water profusely.

Yuriko pouted. She knew her cooking wasn't the best, but he didn't have to rub it in like this. She'd brought him breakfast! At least he should give her credit for trying.

Kenshin swallowed with some difficulty and coughed, struggling to get his breath back.

"No," he said at last. "It's perfect." He looked back up at her and smiled a watery smile, blinking tears from his eyes. "It's perfect, Kaoru."

"Hn," she sniffed.

"Really; it's very good." Kenshin took another bite. "Thank you."

"You... really think so?"

"Yes, of course. I've always liked your cooking, that I have, Kaoru."

Yuriko looked at him suspiciously. He seemed sincere enough, and he was eating it with apparent enthusiasm.

Maybe she'd just missed a bit of charring in that first bite, Yuriko rationalized. She smiled a little, feeling better. It was starting to seem like every time she tried to do something nice for Kenshin it ended up backfiring terribly.

Last night's dinner in Asakusa had been lovely, but it had apparently stirred up some painful memories that Kenshin would have been happier to forget. The nice hot bath she'd fixed him the evening before that had ended with him sprawled on the veranda with a head injury and cornered by Motoko. On Sunday he'd sat through the communal dinner with her when he probably would have been happier just going to bed, and she didn't even want to think about how her crazy scheme of passing him off as female had wound up.

"Kenshin," she started hesitantly, "I'm sorry about all the screw-ups."

"Oro?" He looked at her cluelessly, and licked marmalade off a finger.

"I--" she started again, then broke off, dropping her eyes and smiling self-consciously. "It's nothing," she said. "I just... I don't want you to be unhappy because of me."

"No!" he exclaimed, eyes gone wide with alarm. "Kaoru, no, please don't ever think that."

"I just-- I just feel like I'm neglecting you, spending all this time at work." She hadn't thought about it that way until she'd said it, but it was true. "I feel like we've hardly had any time to talk. It's like, there's so much catching up to do, and no time to do it in."

"Kaoru," he said, surprise and sympathy mingled in his voice.

Yuriko took a breath and let it out. "Sorry," she said, looking away. "You shouldn't have to worry about that too."

He didn't reply for a moment. When he did, his words were spoken carefully. "Kaoru," he said, "It matters how you feel, that it does."

She looked up at him hesitantly. He was watching her, sympathy on his face and concern in his violet eyes.

"There's something you want to talk about, isn't there," he said softly. It wasn't a question.

Yuriko looked at him.

_I've always liked your cooking, that I have._

_Always..._

They must have been together for a long time. They must have spent years together to have developed the kind of intimacy they were showing each other, instinctively, all the time. And yet she still couldn't remember more than the odd little flashes.

A hesitant tension had joined the concern on Kenshin's face, as if he thought he might have misjudged the situation. "O-of course, if there isn't, that's no problem either," he added hastily.

The odd little flashes, and Kyoto. The one clear and identifiable memory.

She'd never been to Kyoto.

"Kenshin..." she began.

"Yes?" He was watching her steadily, openly. There was no wall behind his eyes just now, no mask covering his emotions. He was waiting for her to go on, waiting for her to raise what it was she wanted to talk about. He didn't look eager, but neither did he look afraid.

What would happen would happen. Yuriko moistened her lips, and took the plunge.

"Remind me how we met?"

Kenshin's expression flickered. For a moment there was just silence.

"You don't remember?" he said.

"It's, ah, it's a little hazy," she lied.

There was a stillness in him that hadn't been there a moment before, a stillness that made Yuriko want to move. She nudged his arm slightly, indicating the path through the park, and they began to stroll, slowly.

"I mean, it was a long time ago," she continued, trying to justify her forgetfulness. It must have been a long time ago, in any case. She had that kinesthetic memory of an embrace, their heights almost identical, Kenshin maybe even an inch taller than her. She must have been young then, not yet done growing. Or Kenshin must have been standing on a curb.

"Yes," he said, and nodded, his smile gone a bit sad. "It was a long time ago." He was silent then, as they walked on under the trees.

Yuriko was beginning to think that he wouldn't tell her, when he continued.

"I had just arrived in Tokyo, that I had. It was early spring. Early morning, and foggy." His eyes were distant but his smile had deepened, the sadness going out of it. "You shouted at me in the street, accused me of being a murderer. Then you attacked me with your bokken." He'd met her eyes with a smile as he said it, turning it into a joke.

Yuriko stopped. She'd done _what?_ But Kenshin was continuing, the words coming less hesitantly as he lost himself in the memory.

"It was no fault of yours. A man had been killing people, claiming your school and calling himself the hitokiri Battousai. It was natural that you suspected me. I was carrying a sword openly, in spite of the ban." He rested his left hand on top of the hilt of his sakabatou, and smiled back at her. "You certainly surprised me, that you did. I jumped to dodge your swing but landed on some rotten wood. It was a little embarrassing, that it was."

The image came suddenly into her mind: his comical look of shock as he lay among the splintered boards, flowerpots scattered around him. She stifled a giggle. "Yeah," she said softly. "I remember that."

Did she, though? Or had the image just been painted in her mind by his vivid words? She hurried forward to catch up with him as he strolled on.

"You weren't far off, though, that you weren't. Gohei was up the next street. As soon as you heard the police whistles, you were off." He looked up at the canopy of leaves, watching the light play through them. The dapples slid across his face and hair. "The police were holding back. He'd already attacked them; he was too strong for them. But you didn't hold back. You leapt right past the police and challenged him, right there." He looked back into her eyes again, a hint of admiration on his face. "It was an amazing thing." Then his eyes darkened, and he looked away down the path. "But he could have killed you. I couldn't let that happen. I... caught you and carried you out of the way."

She could taste the emotions; just a hint, but she could taste them. Fury, and terror, and the feel of smooth wood in her hands. "Yeah," she said again, but this time there was a quaver of uncertainty in her voice.

"You were injured. Here." He looked back up at her, and lifted a hand to gently touch her right arm. "I carried you home, that I did. Later, you asked me to stay." His eyes were soft, but full of emotion. "You said... You said you didn't care about my past." He said the words like they had amazed him. Like they had never stopped amazing him.

Yuriko swallowed. She'd seen it. Just for a moment, she'd actually seen it: the huge masked man towering over her, his sword gleaming dully in the uncertain light of dawn and murder in his eyes. She tried to fit it into the timeline of her life, and failed utterly. The bokken in her hands...

She could feel it, as if she were holding it at that very moment.

"I've never..." she whispered.

The familiar shape of the wood against her palms. The kinesthetic memory in her muscles, the familiar movements of the drills...

"I've never held a bokken in my life."

Kenshin had turned, had started to walk on. Her whisper stopped him. She could see the sudden tension in his posture. He hadn't turned back toward her.

"Kaoru..." he began.

This must be wrong. The bokken was the most familiar thing. She could remember it all, hours and days and months of training, teaching at the other dojos, the rare fights when she had to defend her own life and the lives of others. She could remember leaping through the air at Gohei, the bokken held ready in front of her, could remember the weightless thrill and terror of it, could remember the bone-jarring jolt as she swung at him hard only to be blocked by his massive strength. She could remember fighting for her life against a pretty girl -- _girl?_ -- with a chain-hung scythe, scraped and bruised and breathless, could remember Misao yelling furiously behind her, a brace of kunai flying past on either side as she dove desperately inward past the whirling blade--

This must be wrong. She had done all these things.

Kenshin was still standing three paces ahead of her, facing away, tense and waiting. The air had settled heavily between them. Yuriko fumbled with her shoulder-bag and laughed nervously.

"I'll miss my train," she said, half to herself.

Kenshin glanced back sharply over his shoulder. There was a deep anxiety in his eyes, and something else that she couldn't quite identify.

Yuriko started forward briskly, slipping her arm through his as she came level with him. "Let's go," she said. "I'll miss my train if we don't hurry."

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_kunai - a basic Japanese gardening tool, usually made of iron, with an unsharpened leaf-shaped blade and a handle with a ring on the pommel for attaching a rope. Adapted by ninja as a stabby-type weapon; not really designed to be thrown, but would obviously still cause some damage. _

_The stars Orihime and Hikoboshi are known in the West as Vega and Altair, respectively. _


	26. Holes in the dike

**26. Holes in the dike **

Yuriko glanced restlessly around the subway car, her left hand rubbing gently at her right arm. Her arm was tingling, midway between shoulder and elbow, where Kenshin had touched it. Where she'd been cut by Gohei's sword. She could remember the initial flash of pain, dulled by adrenaline and panic; could feel again the aching that had bothered her for a few days afterwards.

It was as real as anything. And yet she knew -- she _knew,_ deep in her soul -- that it had never happened. At least not to her.

What the hell was happening to her?

Yuriko sighed and tilted her head back, gazing blankly at the advertisements hanging from the ceiling of the train. She felt like she was losing her mind.

She snorted ironically, almost a laugh. Bad time for it. This was crunch week. Finals started tomorrow. Better to wait 'til the weekend; then she could go bonkers on her own time. She twiddled with the strap of her shoulder-bag, started getting ready to get up. Her stop was coming up; just the short walk across the canal and down a few blocks and she'd be at work, ready to start in on the last half of the graduation applications.

Her arm was no longer tingling. Yuriko tilted her head to one side and frowned, suddenly thoughtful. She could still remember the fight with Gohei, but it was different somehow, like watching television. A memory of a memory, without the gut-clenching emotional foundation. Everything seemed so normal now.

Maybe it was best not to think about it. Maybe she'd be all right after all. She had a lot to do today. Maybe work would help her hold on to reality.

Still, when she reached the administration building, she went into the bathroom and rolled up her right sleeve to the shoulder to check for a scar. Of course there was none.

But then, hadn't Genzai-sensei said the cut wouldn't leave a scar, since Kenshin had treated it promptly?

o-o-o

_I've never held a bokken in my life._

Kenshin strode up the sidewalk, his pace hurried as if there were somewhere he urgently needed to be. The sun was half way up the sky, the air already very warm and heavy with humidity. Traffic whooshed by on his left, the tail end of the morning rush. Kenshin ignored it, save for a quick glance up at the oncoming cars before he crossed the mouth of a side-street.

Kenshin walked as if he were hurrying somewhere. But in truth, he was just walking.

_I've never held a bokken in my life._

She had asked him to remind her how they'd met. And so he'd told her the truth.

Up to today, he had avoided this. He had avoided saying anything to Yuriko that explicitly involved his past -- or Kaoru's past. He had thought it best to wait, to give her time to remember on her own. It was impossible, what had happened to him, what had happened to them both. To just come out and declare it, before she remembered on her own... That had seemed wrong. That had seemed dangerous. But Yuriko had asked him, and so he'd told her the truth.

Kenshin walked on through the city, turning at random down an alleyway that ran through a cluster of ordinary two-storey houses, their blue tile roofs bright in the sunshine. He wasn't even sure whether it was fear or excitement that was driving him now across the western end of Ueno. He'd told her the truth, told her the tale of that remarkable morning, and he'd seen the recognition in her blue eyes.

She had remembered. Yuriko had _remembered_. And, remembering, she had become aware of the fact that that morning didn't fit.

_I've never held a bokken in my life,_ she'd said. And yet he'd seen the way her hands had curled as he'd described her brief fight against Gohei, as if she could feel the smooth wood against her palms.

There was a danger to this. As she came to remember, at some point she would have to confront the fact that those memories had been formed long before Yuriko herself had been born. Kenshin's instincts were shouting this as a warning to him, and that was half of what was making his heart race.

Half. The other half was excitement, born of a desperate hope. Because he wanted her to remember. He needed her to remember.

_I've never held a bokken in my life,_ she'd said. But her hands remembered. Her body remembered. That bright spirit that lived behind Kaoru's eyes, that spirit remembered. His brief description had been enough to bring that morning to life for her, even if only for a moment.

The kinesthetic memory of a bokken against her palms. Kenshin slowed, his left hand grasping the hilt of his own sakabatou. He knew how strong that physical memory could be, how unforgettable was the weight of a sword in one's hands.

Kaoru had spent her life swinging the bokken. In a way, it had been an extension of her self: the instrument with which she sought to shape her world, the embodiment of all her ideals through the techniques and principles of Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu.

Kenshin blinked, his lips parting in sudden realization. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of this before. Kaoru had lived with a bokken by her side. If he could put one into her hands once more...

Kenshin lifted wondering eyes to the mass of trees beyond the end of the alleyway. His wandering had brought him around again to Ueno Park.

Kenshin liked this neighborhood. It had trees.

A smile of anticipation flickered across his lips.

o-o-o

"Hello, this is Kamiya Kaoru."

"Um... yes... um... I'm calling for Maekawa-san? For room assignments?"

"Yes? Speaking." Yuriko tapped her pencil impatiently on the notepad beside her keyboard.

"Um. Right." The man on the phone paused for a moment. "...Right. Yes. Sorry. This is Nishizawa, economics department? It's about the room assignment for my final exam. I'm going to need a larger room, something with at least forty seats."

"Nishizawa-sensei..." Yuriko balanced the phone against her shoulder and tapped briefly on the keyboard. "Econ 240?"

"That's right."

"Right... okay. At least forty seats." She jotted it on her notepad. "Okay, we'll get you the room. The details will be posted in the official schedule by lunchtime."

"Great, yes, thank you very much. Goodbye."

"Bye." Yuriko put down the phone and sighed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "Another one," she said, without turning around. "That new guy in Econ. Wants a larger room for his exam." She started tapping away on her keyboard again.

"Nishizawa-sensei?" Rika asked from the other side of the office. "The hot one?"

"He may be hot, but he's a flake if he's calling this late. Exams start tomorrow. The draft schedule's been out since Monday." Yuriko brought up the scheduling calendar and started to scan for available rooms.

"Hmm." Rika was quiet for a few moments. "'Kamiya Kaoru'?"

Yuriko stopped and looked back over her shoulder for the first time. "What?"

"When you answered the phone, you said 'Kamiya Kaoru'."

"I did?" The room seemed suddenly quiet. Rika was looking right at her.

She hadn't actually said that, had she? But how would Rika know the name, otherwise?

Rika smiled nervously. "Never mind. I just thought it was odd." Then she laughed, breaking the tension. "I'm sure Nishizawa-sensei thought it was odd too. Now he's sure to have noticed you." She winked at Yuriko.

"Ha." Yuriko turned back to her screen. "Who cares about Nishizawa-sensei." She ran a finger down the column of room numbers. Most of them were assigned already. Capacity of at least forty, eh? Yuriko growled to herself and mentally berated Nishizawa for waiting until the last minute to call. The big seminar room in engineering was free, thank god. Capacity seventy-five, but Nishizawa could spread his students out a little. Cut down on cheating that way. She double-checked the room number and entered it into the database. There.

Yuriko hit the save button and tabbed back to the other window on her screen. At this rate she was never going to get the graduation applications processed in time.

There was a pointed silence coming from the other side of the office, and Yuriko could feel Rika's eyes on her back. Her hands hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then she put them in her lap.

"What is it, Rika?" Yuriko said without turning around.

"So. Who is she, then? Kamiya Kaoru." There was nervousness in Rika's voice, just a little, but enough for Yuriko to hear.

Who is she, indeed. Yuriko swallowed, eyes still on her screen. "Nobody," she said.

Rika was still watching her; she could feel it. Waiting for her to go on. Yuriko's cheeks felt hot. "She's nobody," she repeated. "Just a name."

"Okay." Rika's voice was gentle.

The sound of typing started again behind her and Yuriko relaxed, letting her shoulders sag. Why had she said that name? It bothered her, but it bothered her more that she'd said it naturally, without even noticing. And the Kamiya part? Where had that come from? Kenshin had been calling her Kaoru for the past four days, so it was understandable -- was it? -- that she'd make that mistake. But Kamiya? Had that come from Kenshin, or from herself?

Yuriko pushed the thought away. No time to worry about that now, not until the graduation applications were finished. It was crunch time. She'd worry about it at lunch, or after work.

o-o-o

Rika disposed of her napkin and chopsticks and set her lunch tray on the conveyor belt. Ahh, she thought, another delicious meal of cafeteria noodles. Hitomi had finished as well, and she waited while the other girl bussed her own tray. Hitomi had been in a good mood, talking about her older brother's upcoming wedding.

Yuriko had still been working when Rika had left for the cafeteria. She'd said that she'd catch up with them, but she'd apparently ended up sitting by herself. Rika spotted her auburn hair as she and Hitomi made their way back between the tables toward the exit.

"Hey Yuriko!" she called.

Yuriko didn't look up.

"Yuriko?"

It was noisy in the cafeteria, but not that noisy. Rika frowned, and then called out again. Called out a different name. Why, she would be hard pressed to say afterwards.

"Kaoru!"

Yuriko looked round immediately. "Hey Rika! Hey Hitomi! I didn't see you earlier; I thought you'd already finished." Yuriko had half a bowl of udon left on her tray.

"We're just going back," Rika called back. "See you there, okay?"

"Okay! See you." Yuriko waved, then dunked her chopsticks back into her noodles.

Rika turned and raised an eyebrow at Hitomi. "See?" she said. "I told you. That girl has lost it. 'Kaoru,' indeed."

Hitomi wasn't smiling. In fact, she'd gone pale. "I don't understand," she said softly.

Rika started toward the exit again, drawing Hitomi with her. The other girl staggered a little, her eyes still fixed on Yuriko.

"And did you see how she didn't even notice?"

"I don't understand," Hitomi repeated. "What's going on?"

"I dunno," Rika said lightly. She had been worried herself, but somehow Hitomi's look of deep disturbance had made it all seem funny. "Maybe Yuriko's leading an amazing double life." She pushed the glass door open and strode out onto the brick-paved cafeteria forecourt. The heat hit her like she'd walked into an oven.

Hitomi was frowning at her. "Come on," she said skeptically. "A double life?"

"No, seriously." Rika stepped down the stairs, towards the path across the quad. "Maybe she's really a secret agent. A double agent. By day, Maekawa Yuriko, mild-mannered admin secretary at Meiji U., but by night, Kamiya Kaoru, legendary super-spy!" She grinned at Hitomi, and an idea struck her. Hitomi the idealistic, Hitomi the paranoid.... Rika hid her smile and widened her eyes. "No, you know what I bet it is?" Her voice was full of seriousness. This was going to be fun.

Hitomi looked at her, lips pursed. There was skepticism there, but also a curiosity, a willingness to believe.

"I bet she really is a spy." Rika had lowered her voice conspiratorially, drawing Hitomi closer to listen. "I bet she's a sleeper agent."

Hitomi had widened her eyes slightly, as if considering this seriously.

Rika went on as they crossed the grassy space, enjoying herself. "I bet her real name's Kaoru, and Maekawa Yuriko is just a front. A cover identity, 'til she gets 'activated'." She voiced the quotes. "I bet she was kidnapped and brainwashed, by the--" By who? Ah yes, of course-- "by the North Koreans, and then sent back to live among us as Yuriko until such time as she is needed by her evil masters!"

Hitomi smiled nervously. "C-come on," she said. "All that happened in the seventies. Yuriko's not old enough for that."

Hitomi was actually scared. This was tremendous fun. Rika put on an earnest expression. "She _says_ she's only thirty-two. But she could be older. That could all be part of the cover!" Rika gasped as if something had just occurred to her, her eyes going round. "And you know what? I think I know what they used as the activation signal!"

"What?"

She had Hitomi now, hook, line and sinker. She stopped on the steps of the administration building, looking straight into Hitomi's eyes. "Tokyo Tower!"

Hitomi looked sick.

"I think you were right all along. I think the North Koreans blew it up. Remember how interested Yuriko was? But that was just the beginning. That was just planting the seed. The real trigger was sending her co-agent."

"Rika..."

"It's only been since last weekend that Yuriko's been acting really weird. Since she visited her folks and met that guy. Kenshin."

"Rika! Stop it!" Hitomi hissed. She was not looking at Rika any more. She was looking past her, back toward the quad.

Rika's stomach sank. She turned around slowly.

Yuriko was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her with a sick expression.

"...Oh." Rika swallowed. She'd really done it this time. "Yuriko, look, I didn't mean it. I was just having Hitomi on." She ignored Hitomi's outraged squawk. "No, seriously, it was just a joke."

Yuriko smiled weakly. "Yeah, okay," she said, and started slowly up the steps to join them. She looked tired, stressed.

"Really, it was just a joke."

"Yeah, I believe you." Yuriko glanced at her again, this time with annoyance creeping into her expression. "Come on up, we've got a lot of work to do this afternoon."

o-o-o

A secret agent, indeed. Yuriko wished it were something so sexy, something so dramatic, as she entered another round of corrections into the final exams timetable. Nishizawa-sensei had called back to thank her for the room change. That had been nice of him, at least. Hopefully he'd learn from this and next term he'd check the draft schedule before the last possible day.

Secret agents had fancy gadgets, had James Bond cars. Secret agents didn't fight using bokken and martial arts. A flicker of unpaved streets and old-fashioned buildings, of candle lanterns and wood-burning stoves, flashed through her mind. North Korea, eh? Maybe that was why the technology had looked so primitive.

But no, no, it had been Tokyo! She remembered that. Tokyo and Kyoto, and they'd saved Japan. She remembered that for sure. What kind of sleeper agent would fight so hard to save Japan? And it hadn't just been her. It had been Kenshin and all the rest of them.

All the rest of them.

_-- Everyone's gone --_

Yuriko swallowed uncomfortably, Kenshin's words from last night echoing in her mind. She remembered the rest of them. But there was no overlap with the rest of her life.

Almost as if they were all fictional.

Yuriko shook her head and saved her changes again, then tabbed back to the graduations database. She should've had this finished yesterday, would've had it finished this morning if the damn professors would stop calling and asking her to change things at the last minute! She pulled another graduation request form out of her inbox and copied the name into the appropriate field. Then her phone rang.

o-o-o

Rika had been feeling guilty all afternoon. She'd volunteered to go on the coffee run at two-thirty, even though she'd done the one this morning: a kind of peace offering to Yuriko. It had seemed to work, or else Yuriko hadn't taken Rika's joke as badly as she'd feared.

The girl was stressed, that was all. After today and Friday, the load would lighten up and crunch time would be over. Things would be better then, Rika told herself. For one thing, the calls would stop coming in every fifteen minutes.

Yuriko put the phone down and swore.

"Another schedule change?" Rika asked sympathetically.

"No. Worse. It was the dean of engineering. They want to have a faculty meeting next Tuesday, and he's asking why I gave away their big seminar room to economics for that morning."

"Oh, crap. Nishizawa-sensei?"

"Yeah. That means I have to find him another room." Yuriko trailed off into low grumbling as she peered into her screen. Rika could catch the occasional muttered 'dammit.'

Rika sighed and turned back to her own work. Just the rest of today and Friday, and then crunch time would be over.


	27. To look into darkness

**27. To look into darkness **

_Ting-ling_ went the small bell above the glass door at the front of the garden store, followed immediately by a cheerful recorded voice saying "Irasshaimase!" Maekawa Takeshi looked up from his seat behind the counter and raised his eyebrows as his wife entered the store.

"I mailed them off." Yoko sighed and set her purse onto the counter in front of him. "Express. They should get to her tomorrow."

"Mm." Takeshi nodded. Yoko came around the counter and sat down beside him. They were both silent for a while, eyes on the counter or playing over the shelf of bird seed and potting soil across the aisle.

"What do you think?" Yoko had looked up at last, voicing the question.

Takeshi sighed. Ever since last night, he hadn't been entirely sure what to think. The face in the photograph had been clear, just as clear as his grandmother's handwriting on the back.

"I don't know what to think," he said, half resignedly. "It's got to be a look-alike. And it's got to be intentional, too. There's no other way to explain the costume, let alone the scar." He shook his head. "I can't believe we trusted him."

Yoko put her face in her hands, elbows resting on the counter. "I can't believe we gave him Yuriko's address, just like that," she said.

Takeshi reached out to pat his wife's shoulder, reassuring in spite of the cold knot in his stomach. "Wouldn't've mattered anyway," he said softly. "He found her at Sae-chan's."

"What doesn't make sense is that she _recognized_ him," Yoko was saying. "I mean, from what Sae-chan said, she obviously knew him from somewhere. Which means..."

"Which means it's not something new," Takeshi finished for her. "Which means it's been going on for a long time."

"God, I just hope she's all right," Yoko whispered.

_Ting-ling._ "Irasshaimase!"

Takeshi looked up, clearing his throat and composing himself quickly as he recognized a man from the neighborhood who'd been in to order some saplings the week before.

"Oguri-san, good day!" Takeshi said. "If you come around to the back, I'll show you those trees." He got up and came out around the counter, then leaned back over it to give Yoko's shoulder a final squeeze. "I'll call her," he whispered.

o-o-o

Kenshin slid the blade of his sakabatou carefully down the length of wood, peeling back a long curl of pale oak. He was sitting amongst the trees in a secluded corner of Ueno Park, the wood braced between his half-folded legs.

The sakabatou wasn't the best wood-carving tool, but for Kenshin it was more than sufficient. He was gripping the steel with the flattened fingers of either hand, using the sharpest part of the blade, a handspan down from its tip. The reversed blade was just a hair on the concave side of straight, making it much better for planing than an ordinary katana would have been.

He shaved another long, thin sliver from the wood, then uncrossed his legs and flipped the piece around to work a little more on the handle.

It had taken him almost two hours to find a suitable piece of wood. He had begun by seeking out the more wild and isolated reaches of the large park, back away from the statuary and the manicured lawns where he stood no chance at all of finding fallen branches left on the ground. He had also taken note of the trees: maple would have been acceptable, if a bit lighter than ideal; pine was just too soft. He had eventually come across a stand of old oaks, and after a brief scrabble among the fallen sticks and leaf-litter had come up with exactly what he'd been seeking.

The branch had been perfect: not too green but not too dry either, and the wood was dense and sound. It had been quite a bit longer than he'd needed, but a quick slash of his sakabatou had remedied that. He had taken the bark off and cut the piece roughly to shape, carefully and repeatedly checking its length and its heft and the slight curve that he needed to preserve in the finished product.

He had taken a break a little past noon to rest his hands and shoulders, slipping the length of wood through the ties of his hakama beside his own sheathed sakabatou. He'd walked around the park for a little while to work the cramps out of his legs, then bought himself a cheap bowl of noodles from a stand in the more densely peopled end of the park.

Kenshin smiled and sat back to stretch his shoulders, then leaned again into his work, carefully shaving the ridges off the handle of his creation. Down at the other end of the park he'd caught a glimpse through the crowd of a tall figure in an all-too-familiar turquoise-and-white haori, and his heart had nearly stopped. Then he'd registered the utter lack of hostile ki, the shaved-ice stand, and Yuriko's housemate Hana in an identical haori on the stand's far side. He had grinned a silly grin and shaken his head, marveling at this new era.

Kenshin took a final chip off the edge of the base of the handle and then slipped his sakabatou back into its sheath. He climbed stiffly to his feet, pushing sweat-dampened bangs out of his eyes, and weighed the length of wood in his hands.

Hiko had never bothered training him with the bokken, starting him instead directly on steel. Never mind that at the age of eight he'd barely been able to lift a real sword. But Kenshin had had enough experience with Kaoru's assortment of wooden swords to know how a bokken should feel.

He wrapped his hands around the wooden handle and took an experimental swing. Not too bad, he thought. He swished it off to his right, one-handed, then reversed the motion, catching the base of the hilt in his left hand and gripping with his last two fingers. Not perfect, but not too bad.

Kenshin lowered the bokken and ran his eyes up the pale wood. The handle was still a little rough, but the balance was right, and that was what mattered. It wasn't as good as what Kaoru usually used, but he thought she would approve.

o-o-o

On top of everything else, Yuriko had had to go to a staff training that afternoon. It had been boring, almost pointless, but she needed that Microsoft Office certification before the performance review next month, and she'd already put it off to the last possible session. Tomorrow was going to be hell, with more than a third of the graduation applications still left to process. She'd had an almost irresistible urge to yell at the computing instructor and hit him over the head with her keyboard. That wasn't like her at all, she thought now as she came out of the bathroom stall and crossed to the porcelain sinks.

Wasn't it?

She turned on the tap and ran water over her hands, then reached out for a squirt of soap from the wall-mounted dispenser. Kamiya Kaoru, she thought again, shaking her head while she lathered her hands. Why had she said that name? And anyway, it should have been Himura Kaoru. Kamiya had been her maiden--

Yuriko froze, her thoughts juddering to a halt.

_Her maiden name--_

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Suds dripped unnoticed off her hands, falling onto the white porcelain.

Kenshin's just a friend, she'd insisted. Just a friend--

_-- You don't seem to be Ken-san's lover --_

_-- I see it! I see that this girl is your woman! --_

_-- Answer me, Kaoru! Do you want to see him or not? --_

_-- Kaoru love --_

Yuriko's eyes had widened, as if looking upon an unexpected and impossible landscape. It was like she was straddling a chasm -- on one side her own ordinary, familiar life, and on the other these impossible memories.

She swallowed, trying to beat back the fear. It was as if she'd lived a second life, and then had it all wiped clean from her mind. Rika's words from the steps of the administration building came back to her again and for a vertiginous moment her own memories felt hollow, two-dimensional, artificial....

"Oh god," she whispered, gripping the edge of the sink. She was losing her mind. Straddling a chasm between two incompatible sets of memories. And Rika had been right. It had all started when she'd met Kenshin.

Her maiden name...

_-- Kaoru love --_

No. No! It had to be a fantasy. There was no way it could be real. Not something like that. Not something like marriage. _Kenshin,_ she thought, _what are you doing to me?_

The soap was drying on the backs of her hands, making the skin tickle. "Oh--" Yuriko looked down, the physical sensation snapping her back into the real world. "Oh." She let out a breath.

The administration building. The bathroom. Thursday afternoon, time running out on the day and a third of the graduation applications still left to process. She reached out abruptly to turn the tap back on and rinsed her hands, scrubbing them briskly together, then cupped water in her palms and splashed it onto her face. She stood bent over for a long moment, eyes squeezed closed, water dripping from her cheeks. Then she took a deep breath and reached for a paper towel.

It was just the stress of crunch time. It had to be that. One more day to go, just one more day to get through and then she could relax. She patted her face dry and glared at her reflection in the mirror.

Just the stress. Once this was over, she could relax. Then she'd have time to worry about these other things. Like Kenshin. Like these alien memories.

Please don't let me be going crazy, she thought.

No time to think about that now. Yuriko pushed the thoughts away and strode out of the bathroom, down the stairs and back towards her office. Half an hour to go. She'd do one more stack of graduation applications, and then she'd go home.

"Hi Rika," she said as she came through the door.

"Hey Yuriko. How was the training?" Rika had swiveled around in her chair to look up at her as she crossed the room.

"Waste of time. Any calls?" Yuriko slid into her chair and took a sheaf of graduation applications out of her inbox. Just this stack, and then she'd go home. She interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her.

"No more calls from profs," Rika said.

"Thank god."

"But your father called."

Yuriko blinked.

_-- Six months ago --_

"My..."

_-- my father was drafted for the Seinan war --_

"...father?"

_-- and left this world --_

The floor had opened up under Yuriko. If she had been standing, she would have swayed.

"Yeah, he asked how you were," Rika was saying, her words distant and meaningless.

She missed him, oh how she missed him, she missed him so much that it ached. Her father, tall and smiling with quiet pride in her and in his students, the bokken held easily at his side--

"I said you were fine, and he said to ask you to call him some time." Rika was still speaking, saying something incomprehensible about her father...

The policeman from the government had come to the gates of the dojo and asked for her father's next of kin, had taken off his hat when he'd told her. And just like that she'd been alone. Alone, carrying on through the sheer determination that he'd taught her, running the dojo and upholding his last gift to the world, his Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu. The sword that gives life, the sword that protects.

Alone. Until Kenshin had come.

"Yuriko?" Rika had swiveled back around and was looking at her.

"What?" Yuriko yelped.

"I said your father called. He wants you to call him back."

Her father had called. Her... father... had called. Yuriko shook herself, tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Of course her father had called. She should have called him and her mom by now; it had been all week since she'd been home. But she'd lost her phone.

"Oh my god," Yuriko whispered.

She couldn't remember what he looked like.

No, she could, of course she could: tall and proud and black-haired, with the bokken at his side...

"Oh my god," she whispered again, the last word almost a squeak. Her heart had started to pound.

"Yuriko, are you all right?" Rika had gotten up, had come across to her desk. "Yuriko?" She touched Yuriko's arm, gingerly.

Yuriko flinched, pulling away. "No! No, I'm all right. I just--" She lurched to her feet. Rika was in front of her. "I'm all right..."

This is Meiji University, Yuriko thought. I've worked here for four years.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Yeah." Yuriko took a breath, concentrating on Rika in front of her. Rika, her coworker. At Meiji U., administration department. In the year two thousand and four. She'd been home just last weekend, home to Kamakura, had seen her mother and father and her cousin Sae. She could remember what he looked like now, with the glasses and the sandy orange hair.

"Yeah," she said again. Her pulse was slowing down now. It was the stress. It had to be the stress. "It's just been a hell of a day," she said, letting out a long breath. "Heh. A hell of a week. I'll be fine." She gave Rika a half-smile and picked up her bag, slinging the straps up over her shoulder. "I just need a little time to decompress. That's all. I'll finish these in the morning." She scooped up the graduation applications from beside her keyboard and dropped them back into her inbox. Then she switched off her monitor and gave Rika a smile. "See you tomorrow."

Rika nodded, still looking worried and uncertain. "Yeah. Take care of yourself, Yuriko, okay?"

Normally Yuriko would have waited around until Rika finished up, would have gone to fetch Hitomi so the three of them could walk to the station together. But not today. She gave Rika an abbreviated wave and was gone, down the hall, down the stairs, out into the cloying heat.

Today, Yuriko needed to be alone.

She walked steadily up the street toward the canal, her face calm and still, under the blue sky of Tokyo and the July sun beating down on her hair.


	28. Over the edge

**28. Over the edge **

_My name is Maekawa Yuriko. I was born in Kamakura in nineteen seventy-two. My father's name is Takeshi and my mother's name is Yoko._

Yuriko continued the silent litany as she dipped water from the trough and poured it over her hands, one at a time, listing the names of her elementary school and her middle school and her high school and her college.

She'd crossed the bridge toward the subway station but then she'd turned right instead of left, down the narrow steps and into the deep shade of the shrine. A mosquito whined past her ear and Yuriko swiped a hand at it.

_I moved to Tokyo in the year two thousand. I live in Yanaka and I work at Meiji University._

Yuriko took another deep breath and turned away from the water to walk deeper into the grounds. She liked this shrine, so close to work and yet almost a world apart. Her head was still buzzing, her stomach still fluttering from that last fright at the office. That last panic over her father. The memory flickered and she pushed it away, keeping her attention locked onto her inner monologue.

_My name is Maekawa Yuriko. I was born in Kamakura..._

She could handle this, she told herself. Everything was going to be fine. Her father had just called the office, had just called to ask how she was.

She stepped down the three stone steps and turned, letting herself be startled as usual by the huge bronze statue of Confucius that always seemed to be looking right at her when she came around that corner.

Her father didn't normally call the office. She hoped nothing was wrong. But then, she normally phoned her folks at least every few days. She hadn't spoken to them since leaving Kamakura on Sunday afternoon, and here it was Thursday already.

Yuriko sighed again, this time exasperated at herself. If only she hadn't lost her damn phone. It wasn't just the handset -- she could easily borrow a phone from one of her housemates or even from Takamori. It was the numbers. Her parents had gotten a fax line and a new phone number three years ago and she'd never bothered to memorize it. She'd just programmed it into her handset and labeled it 'home'. Now, even if she borrowed a phone, she would still have to call information.

She took another deep breath and let it out, feeling better in spite of the frustration. It was crunch time, that's what it was, she thought as she turned away from the statue and retraced her steps back toward the shrine's entrance. She was just stressed over work. One more day and she'd be able to relax, to take a break from it all and get her head sorted out. Until then, she just had to keep going.

o-o-o

"Welcome back, Kaoru."

"Oh!" Yuriko startled violently, jumping back and away from the soft-voiced greeting.

Kenshin was already moving, darting forward after her and catching her before she could crash backwards into the post that held aloft the traffic signals. Even as he moved she could see his expression changing: alarm; relief; contrition.

"Sorry for startling you, Kaoru." He was apologizing already, looking up at her with those big violet eyes of his. "I didn't mean to--"

"No," she snapped, more harshly than she'd intended. She sighed briefly and softened her voice. "It's all right, Kenshin. Come on, okay?"

The lights had changed, the crowd of pedestrians starting across the street in front of the station. Yuriko caught Kenshin's wrist in one hand and drew him briskly after her.

She oughtn't have been surprised. He'd told her this morning that he'd wait for her in front of the subway station. And she'd warned him not to stand in the middle of the square outside the entrance: more than a few of her housemates would be coming home around this time too. He must've been lurking in the shade around the corner of the adjacent building, Yuriko thought as she stepped up onto the curb and turned left. It would've been better if he'd waited for her somewhere else. It would've been better if he hadn't materialized right beside her with no warning. She didn't need Kenshin startling her today, not on top of everything else.

_-- It's only been since last weekend that Yuriko's been acting really weird --_

She glanced back at him, releasing his wrist. He was looking at her silently, eyes wide and a tight anxious expression on his face, as if he thought something was very wrong. And there was something subtly different about him...

"Come on," Yuriko said briefly. "We can talk in the park."

o-o-o

Something was wrong, Kenshin thought as he hurried up the sidewalk after her. Something was wrong, and he should have seen it, should have seen it from the start. He should have taken care not to startle her like that.

Maybe something had happened at work. She'd told him about 'crunch time'; maybe it had been worse than she'd said. He wanted to stop her and ask her, but she was hurrying on, and she'd already told him. _We can talk in the park._

Kenshin pressed his lips together and strode on after her.

o-o-o

The park was green and peaceful as always. The happy voices of children playing mingled with the buzz of the cicadas, filling the hot heavy air.

Yuriko slowed and then stopped on the path, but she didn't turn around. Not yet. She could feel Kenshin hovering behind her.

"Kaoru?" His voice was hesitant; she thought she caught a hint of a tremor in it, as if he were a little bit afraid.

She took a breath and blew it out, turning to face him.

"I'm sorry, Kenshin," she started, and then she noticed what it was that was different about him.

It had taken her a good hour and a half from when she'd found him at Sae's apartment before she'd even noticed his sword. It had been so natural, such a part of him, that her eyes had just slid over it. Kenshin always wore his sword.

What he never wore was a second sword. This one was wooden. Yuriko's breath caught.

_I've never held a bokken in my life--_

"This is for you," Kenshin was saying. He must have read her gaze, seen her eyes on the length of pale wood that he was wearing stuck through the waist-band of his hakama beside his own sword. Before Yuriko could say a word he had pulled it out, offering it to her on his outstretched palms.

"A bokken." Her voice was flat. Her thoughts had gone still, as if a part of her were waiting to see what she would do.

She could remember the feel of smooth wood against her palms.

_I've never..._

Yuriko reached out and wrapped her hand around the wood, lifting it off of Kenshin's palms. She hadn't thought about the action. It had been automatic. An impulse. An instinct.

She saw Kenshin relax, the tension going out of him to be replaced by an immense relief. He met her eyes briefly with a smile, stepping forward to draw her with him onto the stretch of grass beside the path.

She blinked, following him automatically, her mind blank and the bokken clasped easily in her right hand.

_-- I've never held a bokken in my life --_

Yuriko opened her mouth but no words were coming, her mind still oddly frozen.

The familiar shape of the wood in her palms. The kinesthetic memory in her muscles, the familiar movements of the drills...

She brought the bokken smoothly up in front of her, wrapping her left hand around the base of the hilt.

_No,_ Yuriko's mind whispered, in the fraction of a second before her head turned inside out.

It was all there, all of it, Tokyo and Kyoto and the dojo and the fight with Gohei, the battle for the Aoi-ya and Misao and Yahiko and Sanosuke and her dead father and _Kenshin,_ always Kenshin, and how she felt for him and that awful goodbye among the fireflies and Megumi and Enishi and his horrible revenge, and it was all pouring into her mind faster than she could process, faster than she could understand and it was Kaoru, it was all _Kaoru_ and she had always been stronger, she had always been more _real_ and Yuriko was just a shadow somewhere in the background of her mind--

Kenshin was shouting at her, gripping her by the shoulders and shouting her name. "Kaoru! Kaoru!"

For a fraction of a second it was Kaoru who looked down at him, as if from a great height. Then her breath came rushing into her lungs and Yuriko's mind snapped painfully back.

"No!" she screamed, the force of her voice startling him backwards a step. "No! I'm not her! I'm not _Kaoru!_" And on the last shrieked word she swung at him, overhand--

_-- He has the best reflexes I've ever seen --_

--the bokken whistling through the air towards his forehead, and he didn't move, he didn't flinch, his eyes just shuttered subtly, as if he were bracing himself--

_-- but he never avoids me when I try to hit him --_

Yuriko yelled and wrenched her arms to the side with all her strength, sending the bokken whistling past Kenshin's left ear and clipping the tip of his shoulder. She turned the swing sideways and opened her hands, hurling the bokken away from her.

She didn't wait to hear it crash through the bushes, to hear it bang against the chain-link fence beyond. She was already running, running away as fast as she could, away from Kenshin's horrified eyes, away from the alien memories, away from Kaoru. Away from the frightened girl with the dead father, from the fighter with the bokken-callused hands, from the world-wise woman who had known her own heart far better than Yuriko ever had, and who had loved one person above all else.

Yuriko kept running, up the street, past the school at the far end and up the alley beside it and onward, racing up the hill as fast as her legs would take her and on through the quiet ranks of the cemetery, on past the shrine and up onto the rocky path that ran beside the patch of wooded waste land beyond.

She ran until her foot caught on an exposed root, unseen through eyes blurred with tears, and she sprawled headlong onto the ground between the trees. And Yuriko lay there, sobbing as if her heart would break.

o-o-o

Kenshin stood in the park after she had gone, unmoving, his face frozen with shock. The memory of Yuriko's eyes hovered in front of him, a full circle of white all the way around her irises as she'd held the bokken aloft. She had looked like she was drowning.

_I'm not her._

He hadn't known. He hadn't realized. The implications of what he had tried to do hadn't even crossed his mind.

_I'm not Kaoru._

Yuriko was a human being, a person in her own right. She may have had Kaoru's eyes, she may have had Kaoru's smile, she may have had Kaoru's memories lying latent just below the surface of her awareness, but Yuriko had her _own_ past, her _own_ memories, her _own_ personality. To awaken Kaoru within her, to truly bring Kaoru back...

Kenshin's stomach twisted in horror with the realization of what he had tried to do.

To bring Kaoru back would have been to destroy Yuriko.

There had been a full circle of white, all the way around her irises.

"Yuriko-dono," he whispered at last, to the empty space where she had been. "I'm so sorry."

o-o-o

Yuriko lay there for a long time, on the ground between the trees. She lay there and cried, until she had no more tears inside her. The sun had set by the time she pushed herself up off the ground, the eastern sky already dusky, the west still aglow in washed-out yellow and blue.

Yuriko sniffed, wiped her nose and eyes on the back of her wrist, and got up onto her knees. She felt numb inside and exhausted, but her mind was clear.

It was over. She was herself. She was Maekawa Yuriko, and the alien memories were gone.

Yuriko got to her feet and picked up her shoulder-bag, rummaging in it for a small packet of kleenex to blot at her eyes. She brushed the dust off the front of her skirt from where she'd fallen, blew her nose and cleared her throat a couple of times. And then she turned around and started walking, calmly and steadily homeward.

Her life was her own. Her plain, lonely, boring life, the only life she'd ever had. She was Maekawa Yuriko, and that was all she wanted.

It was fully dark by the time she got back to the apartment house. Yuriko opened the heavy wooden door, slipped off her shoes, padded silently back towards the bathroom. There were a few people around; she'd heard voices from the lounge and a light had been burning in the dining room. She turned on the taps and splashed water onto her face, repeatedly, scrubbing at her cheeks and rinsing her eyes, trying to wash away the marks that the tears had left.

She didn't want anyone to see. She didn't want anyone's sympathy. She didn't want anyone asking questions, not now.

She went outside onto the veranda to cut around to the kitchen, avoiding whoever it was who had the lights on in the dining room. She'd guessed that it was Motoko, doing her homework. She had no desire to talk to Motoko.

She made herself a cup of instant noodles with water from the electric kettle; ate it in darkness on the old wooden bench beside the kitchen's back door. Then she took a long, hot shower, walked up the stairs to her room, and went to bed.

She was Maekawa Yuriko. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

_Author's notes: _

_Thanks to Nekotsuki for the use of the line, 'He has the best reflexes I've ever seen, but he never avoids me when I try to hit him,' which comes from her wonderful one-shot, 'Left Unsaid.' _


	29. The tower

** 29. The tower **

He hadn't intended to seek out the tower. He had been wandering, aimlessly, once again just crisscrossing the darkened city, letting his feet take him where they would. Wandering with no destination.

He had glimpsed it from a distance some time after the crescent moon had set, had seen it through a gap in the seemingly endless array of buildings. It was all lit up like a festival pagoda, impossible not to notice. And he'd recognized it immediately: the unmistakable red and white latticework, the impossible height making it seem much closer than it was.

He hadn't intended to seek it out. But here he was, standing on the crest of the small hill, dwarfed by the tower's shining hugeness.

Kenshin moistened his lips. It was just a tower; just a spire of steel built here for some purpose he couldn't quite guess. But it had been his first sight here in this bizarre world, and standing beneath it now, gazing upward once again at its dizzying height, it made him feel frightened and angry.

He forced himself to look away, shaking his head slightly. No, he thought; it was stupid to hate a tower. It wasn't the tower that had taken him away from everything he knew, that had brought him here to this strange and alien world.

Wasn't it?

Kenshin glanced tentatively back toward the tower. He still didn't understand what had happened to him, still didn't know how a hundred and sixteen years could have passed him by in the blink of an eye, still had no idea what had caused that pearly glowing in the air of the alleyway behind the market. He narrowed his eyes, quickly scanning the paving around the tower's base. This was where he'd... where he'd landed, if such a term made sense. Here, near the base of this tower. Kenshin looked up at the spire again, eyes narrowed and analytic, trying to match its precise shape to that single confused memory. He took several quick steps to his right, backed up a little, tilted his head to one side.

Was this it? It looked right, but he couldn't be sure. He glanced quickly down, scanning the area rapidly. There was nothing special about this spot, no difference in the flat gray surface of the concrete. He looked back up at the tower again. It was four-sided, symmetric; he could have seen it from any one of those sides. Kenshin frowned and jogged quickly across, under one of the immense open-worked legs of the structure, around to the next side. He craned his neck to look upward again, adjusting his position against the memory.

Nothing. There was nothing different about this spot either; nothing unusual about it at all. And this was silly, too -- it was just an ordinary tower, just a construction of painted steel. There was nothing supernatural about this. He should be looking for the glow in the air, for the strange pulsing light. But of course he would find no such thing, not here. And even if he did, after his first encounter with such a phenomenon, his instinct would be to run in the opposite direction just as fast and as far as he could.

Kenshin sighed and walked on, around to the tower's other two sides, eyes scanning the concrete. There was no reason not to check, after all; he had nothing else to do tonight. Not now. Not any more.

He reached the fourth side of the tower and rested his palms against the concrete block, taller than himself, that anchored one of its immense legs. There had been nothing to see. Of course there hadn't. This was the real world. Things like that didn't happen in the real world. What had happened to him was impossible, an anomaly. Why should it leave a sign in this real world?

Kenshin sighed and leaned his forehead gently against the concrete, closing his eyes. This examination of the tower had been a distraction, nothing more; just a way to occupy his mind so that he didn't have to think about her eyes.

_There had been a full circle of white, all the way around her irises--_

The memory assailed him and he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, leaning heavily against the concrete.

He should have anticipated it. He had sensed something was wrong, had seen the anxiety in Yuriko as soon as she'd come out of the station. And yet he'd still gone ahead. He'd still laid the bokken in her hands. He'd still pushed her.

_-- I'm not her! I'm not Kaoru! --_

She had run. She had run from him, leaving him standing in shock in the empty park. He should have anticipated it, but he hadn't. And so, by the time he'd understood what had happened, it had almost been too late. He'd had to make sure she'd be all right, to make sure he hadn't driven her over the edge. To make sure she made it home safely. He'd set off after her, sprinting through the streets and then along the rooflines, but she'd had too much of a head start and he'd had to search the entire neighborhood before he found her.

It had broken his heart to watch her cry, crouching hidden in a tree in that scrap of waste land, wanting to go to her, wanting to comfort her, but knowing that anything he did would only make it worse.

He had followed her back to the apartment house afterwards, creeping silent and invisible along the rooflines. He had lain flat upon the still-hot roof tiles opposite her window, guessing her motions from the progress of the lights in the now-familiar building. He hadn't left her until she'd gone back to her room, until she'd put out the light and gone to bed. And even then, he'd waited until he guessed that she must be asleep.

She had been all right. Walking back to her home, she had seemed almost serene. And her window had been open. He would have heard if she'd been crying.

And that had been it. That had been all he could do for her. He couldn't even go back to tell her he was sorry.

Kenshin turned around against the concrete block, letting its rough surface support his back. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to look at the glossy surface of the paved road, shining white in the harsh artificial light of the tower. He didn't want to see the tangle of wires strung up and down the street, the ubiquitous wires that ensnared the entire city like a fish in an enormous net. What he wanted was to be able to breathe the air without the omnipresent smell of petroleum. What he wanted was to be able to listen to the night sounds of the city without hearing the constant hum of rubber on asphalt. What he wanted was to be able to look up at the dark sky and see the stars again, see them unobscured by that orange-yellow glow that washed the sky as if the city were aflame.

He _missed_ his Tokyo; missed it so badly that it hurt. But more than anything, he missed _her_. Kaoru. His own Kaoru.

He understood now why he'd come here, why his path had led him inevitably back to this tower. It was because a part of him still hoped that he could go back. That's why he'd looked for the signs of his inexplicable arrival; that's why he _wouldn't_ have run in the opposite direction if he'd seen that pearly glow again.

He wanted more than anything to go back. But this hadn't just been a journey. This was _time,_ and there was no turning back time. The past was the past, and it could not be changed. To wish that it could... That way lay madness.

The past was the past. All that could be done was to live on in the present, to try to create the world that he had hoped for. This had always been the truth.

He still didn't understand what had happened to him, what had snatched him away from everything he knew. That glowing thing had been real, real enough to cause a hundred and sixteen years to pass by in the blink of an eye, to pass by without touching him. He had meant to ask Yuriko about it, eventually, after they'd spent enough time together for her to understand what had happened. Yuriko had grown up in this modern world; she understood its workings. And Kaoru had always been interested in technology.

_Kaoru..._

His eyes prickled and he opened them, straightening up and taking a deep breath. There was no use thinking about those things, not now. Not any more. Yuriko hadn't been meant to remember. A part of him had known it, even at the start, even in those first hours in Takizawa Sae's apartment and on the train from Kamakura. That was why he had been almost afraid, because he'd known it shouldn't have been happening.

But it had been irresistible. _She_ had been irresistible. Even if she hadn't asked him to come back to Tokyo with her, even if she hadn't used those same words, the very same words she'd said to him that morning in Kyoto, the words that had made him keep fighting when he would have given up and died--

Even if she hadn't said those words, he still would have done anything to be able to follow her.

_Kaoru._

He couldn't go back, not now. He had to go on. Yuriko deserved her own life, and to try to force her to be Kaoru for him.... Such a thing was unthinkable. Such a thing would be a crime, a betrayal of Kaoru herself. And he loved her far too much to do such a thing.

She hadn't been meant to remember. It had been seeing him, _recognizing_ him, that had brought up the memories, memories that were never meant to touch the surface. At first, she'd been so happy. She had been walking on the clouds, and after two months wandering in this strange new era and knowing she was gone, just to see her happy, just to _see_ her, had been more than he could possibly have hoped for. But she hadn't been meant to remember; no-one was meant to remember such things. Again, that way lay madness. And he had tried to help her remember more, had tried to bring Kaoru back within her. He had never thought it would hurt her, had never even imagined that one mind was never meant to hold the memories of two lives.

Yes; he had to go on. For the sake of Yuriko's happiness, he could never see her again. He had given himself a mission, before: had set himself to find his descendants, to protect their happiness. That task was not yet completed. He was only a bit more than half way through his list.

His list. _Oh._ He had left his list in his room at Yuriko's apartment house two days ago, when he'd leapt out the window to avoid Motoko's attack. Kenshin sighed, letting his shoulders sag. He would have to go back to the public records office, would have to redo all that research. It had been only a day's work, but the thought of doing it all over again made him feel exhausted.

And was it even right, what he'd been doing? He had found his descendants, but had he been able to do anything to protect their happiness? They were happy already in this new era, living their safe, stable lives. They needed no protection from him. And of all those whom he had visited, he had only really had an effect on one of them. That one was Yuriko. And by making her remember, he had destroyed her happiness.

Maybe he should stop. Maybe he shouldn't try to seek them out. They were safe, after all, content already in this new era. And they were not only his descendants. They were Yuriko's relations, and by visiting them he ran the risk of intruding again upon her life. To risk that, to make those visits knowing that the chance of him doing any good was small to nonexistent, while the chance of causing more suffering to Yuriko was very real....

No. He could not risk that. For Yuriko's sake, he could never risk that.

He should leave Tokyo. Japan was a big country; there were many places he could wander without risking Yuriko's happiness. He had done it for ten years, and he could do it again: become a rurouni once more and wander the country, a free sword, protecting the happiness of the people within his sight.

But to do that, to go on, knowing that she was alive in this world... Kenshin swallowed, forcing aside the memory of her bright smile, of the sparkle in her familiar blue eyes.

No; he should go on. But even if he did, would it matter? This was a new era, an era in which swords were truly useless. In all his time in this strange new world, he had not been able to protect a single person.

It was a frightening thought, a thought that had first started to creep up on him after he'd made his second visit to a relative all the way back in May, after he'd started to realize that each one of them would remind him painfully of Kaoru. A thought that he had shied away from then, that he had suppressed all through his two months of visiting, but that had grown with each passing week in which he'd been unable to help a single soul. Now, he had no hope to hold on to, no faith to quiet the whisper in the back of his mind.

_Himura Kenshin is not needed in this era._

He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering a little in spite of the thick warmth of the night. It had never mattered before. Before, when he'd been a rurouni, the people had needed protecting; but even if they hadn't, that had been only one of the two things that had driven him onward.

_-- That is why "Hitokiri Battousai" is still alive in the Meiji era --_

A need to protect the people, yes. But also a need to atone, to pay back for all the people who had suffered for the revolution. For all the people who had been killed by the hitokiri Battousai. He had learned something about atonement, since those days. He had learned that there was no answer, that there was no solution, that there was nothing he could do to win forgiveness for his crimes except to keep doing what he'd always done, to keep protecting the people within his sight. He'd learned that his atonement would only be complete when those he had wronged had forgiven him within their own hearts.

And now, at last, that must be true. The revolution was past. Not only over, but _past,_ forgotten in the depths of time. No one in this world had been alive during the Bakumatsu. No one in this world cared any more what one hitokiri had done, back during those bloody days. And Kenshin suddenly understood why the forgetting was important, why the remembrance of a prior life would have been poison to humanity.

The world had to forget. The world had to be able to forgive, to move on into the future. Into the new era.

He had no more need to atone. And in this new era, he had not been able to protect a single soul.

It was what he had always done. He had always fought to protect people. But time had gone on. Time had gone on, and they had died. They had all died.

Everyone.

Even her.

He had never thought he would live for long. By all odds, he should have died a long time ago. He should have died with his mother and father. He should have died with the slavers. He should have died by the sword on the blood-washed streets of Kyoto. He should have died in a snowbound forest outside Otsu.

He should have died in the fight against Shishio-- would have died, if it hadn't been for her words. _Let's go back to Tokyo together._ And because of those words, he should have died of old age at Kaoru's side.

He had never thought he would live for long. And because of that, except for during the very darkest of times, every day had been a gift, a small miracle to be treasured.

But he hadn't died. He had lived, and everyone else had died instead.

_Himura Kenshin is not needed..._

Later, he thought, almost frantically. He'd figure all this out a little later. There had to be something he could do. It was late; he was exhausted; he needed time to rest first, time to rest and think things through.

Time, he thought bitterly. Time had gone on, and he hadn't been able to stop it. He hadn't been able to protect any one of them.

Not even Kaoru.

Kenshin turned his back on the lights of the tower and walked away, away through the sleepless city and into the darkness. 


	30. An island never cries

** 30. An island never cries **

_Beep -- beep -- beep -- bee--clik_

Maekawa Yuriko lifted her face off the pillow and scrubbed one-handed at her eyes. Seven o'clock. _Ugh._ She flopped back down onto the futon, burying her face in the soft darkness.

Friday morning. Work. She pushed herself back up onto her elbows, squinting against the daylight. Her sleep had been dreamless but fitful, leaving her unrested. And her eyes felt raw. Yuriko rolled over and sat up, pushing the comforter aside. Got to get to work. And don't think about--

Don't think about Kenshin.

Yuriko closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the ceiling. It was over. For better or worse, it was over. And she had too much to do today. She'd deal with the fallout later.

She threw on her clothes, picked up her shoulder-bag and walked out, heading resolutely down the stairs to wash her face. Twenty minutes later and she was out the door, walking steadily down the path in front of the apartment house with her bag over her shoulder and the morning sun beating down on her hair.

She'd be early to work. But that was all right.

o-o-o

Fukuyama Rika had thought she'd be a bit early to work this morning. She hadn't expected Yuriko to be in the office already when she arrived.

"Oh! Hi, Yuriko."

"Mm." The other woman responded noncommittally, not looking up from her computer. She was typing something, concentrating on the screen. She finished, clicked the mouse, and then looked up briefly.

"Good morning, Rika," she said, and then picked up the next page off the stack by her elbow.

Rika tilted her head. Yuriko had looked calm, her face almost serene.

"Hey," she started. "I'm really sorry about yesterday--"

"It's okay," Yuriko said placidly.

Rika opened her mouth to go on, then shut it. If Yuriko said it was okay, then it was best not to push the issue. She smiled and stepped over to her desk, setting down her purse and slipping into her chair. She flipped back the hair from the sides of her face and adjusted the silk scarf around her neck. It was already another scorcher out there, and from the forecast it looked like there wouldn't be any relief any time soon.

Rika sighed, wishing for rain as she turned the page of her desk calendar.

"Oh hey, Yuriko," she started again. "I've got to get a head-count for the party tonight. Are you...?"

"I'll be there," Yuriko replied flatly.

"Are you sure? If you want to skip out and spend the time with Kenshin--"

"It's over."

Rika blinked. Yuriko's voice had been even flatter than before, her meaning unambiguous.

_It's over._

That was what had been different about her this morning. Her face had been serene, but her eyes had been dull.

Rika swallowed around the lump in her throat, remembering how Yuriko had looked when she'd found her in the photocopier room at the start of the week. Remembering the dreamy smile that had been on her face, remembering the distracted way that she'd gazed out at the trees, remembering the sparkle in her blue eyes.

Rika had liked Yuriko bubbly. Now she just seemed numb.

o-o-o

"Rika? Yuriko? Lunch?"

Yuriko looked up from her computer screen. Hitomi was standing in the doorway.

"Lunch. Yeah," she said, stretching her arms up above her head. She saved her changes to the database and got up, slipping the maroon strap of her bag over her shoulder.

She had spent the entire morning processing graduation applications. She'd finally hit her rhythm, and at that point it had become easy, it had become almost hypnotic. The hours had floated by without effort. Rika had gone out to get the coffee at ten thirty, bringing her back her usual cup of medium roast, no milk, two sugars. Just the way she liked it.

She trailed the other two women up the hall and down the stairs, coming out into the sunshine and the dense midday heat. Hitomi didn't mention the newspaper headlines.

They crossed the quad to the cafeteria, lined up for udon, paid the cashier and went to find a table. Rika didn't mention home-made bento lunches.

They sat together near the big windows, eating their noodles. Rika and Hitomi chatted about this and that. Gossip from the registrar's office; which songs they wanted to sing at tonight's karaoke session.

Hitomi didn't mention her brother's upcoming wedding. Rika didn't mention the Shinsengumi. And neither of them said anything about getting together for lunch this weekend.

Yuriko ate her noodles, and thought about graduation applications.

o-o-o

"Here you go; the usual."

Rika looked up and smiled at Yuriko as the other woman set a steaming paper coffee cup onto her desk. Rika had offered to go out for their afternoon coffee run as well, but Yuriko had insisted.

"Thanks, Yuriko," she said as her coworker settled back into her chair. "Mmm. Coffee." She took a sip from her cup, savoring the rich hot liquid.

"It was a fresh pot," Yuriko was saying, holding her own cup under her nose, both hands wrapped around it. "We're lucky." She gave Rika a smile.

"Ahh." Rika sighed and then smiled back, relieved. Yuriko finally seemed to be coming out of her shell, interacting in a more normal way. She'd been very quiet all morning, absorbing herself in her work, and over lunch she'd hardly said a word. Rika had taken care not to say anything that might have been hurtful, even going so far as to stop into the registrar's office on the first floor and warn Hitomi on her way out for the mid-morning coffee run.

"So, do you think this new place will be any good?" Yuriko was saying.

Rika's eyebrows twitched upwards. This was the most interest Yuriko had ever shown in the annual office party. Certainly a good sign.

"I hope so," she replied. The Boss had chosen a new venue for this year's party after the restaurant they'd gone to for the previous two years had been double-booked. "I mean, the food's supposed to be good, anyway. And they gave us a package deal."

"Hmm." Yuriko sipped her coffee.

"Think you'll try the karaoke this year?" Rika asked with a grin.

"Feh," Yuriko said. "I don't know any songs."

"Who cares?" Rika replied. "That's the fun of it! Just pick one you know the tune to; the lyrics're right there in front of you."

Yuriko looked skeptical.

"Come on; it's totally fun. Here, how about this: we'll find one you know, and Hitomi and I'll get up there and sing it with you. Okay? That way you can screw up the words and nobody'll even hear."

"Mmm..."

"Come on, you'll love it."

"Ah, fine," Yuriko said reluctantly.

"Yes!" Rika shot a fist into the air triumphantly. "You'll see; you'll be the biggest karaoke fan ever after this." She drank some coffee.

"By the way, how's it going with the graduation apps?" Rika added, waving a hand toward Yuriko's computer.

Yuriko sighed and glanced toward her screen. "They're practically done," she said. "Another half hour and that should be it."

"That's great!" Rika grinned. She knew that the graduation applications had been taking a lot of Yuriko's time, and that being behind on them had been weighing on the other woman's mind. Being able to finish them up before the end of the day meant Yuriko would finally have a chance to relax.

Rika glanced surreptitiously at the office phone as the two women swiveled back toward their computers. If anyone called about schedule changes, Rika resolved that she would deal with them herself.

o-o-o

Somewhere on the northern outskirts of Tokyo, out past Akabane, there runs a river. It is not an extraordinary river. Further downstream it branches to feed the famed Sumidagawa, lifeblood of Tokyo, but up here on the edge of the city it is just one of many, running down from the mountains of Saitama toward the lowlands and Tokyo Harbor. It runs lazily in the summer heat, its surface dark and placid, its waters lying shallow and comfortable in the broad riverbed. Its banks are straight, orderly, in a way that would please an engineer.

On either side of the river lies a broad grassy verge, a good fifty yards of flat earth between the edge of the water and the steep embankment: an overflow, a margin of safety to protect the levees in times of flood. The verge is dry at this season, the coarse lanky grass just beginning to go yellow at its tips from lack of rain. The levees themselves are covered in grasses as well, the occasional scrubby bush somehow overlooked by the landscapers dotting their steep slopes. A road runs along the top of the embankment for some miles here, edged with a corrugated steel crash barrier on old wooden supports. Beyond the road, the occasional cluster of industrial warehouses and the odd tree-covered hill nestle among the residential neighborhoods, row after row of tan two-storey houses, all the same.

Out here on the edge of the vast city, the afternoon is quiet. Traffic is light; the soccer fields marked out in chalk on the grass of the river's verge are empty. A few miles upstream a boy runs along the riverbank, trailing a kite behind him; somewhere off downstream on the opposite bank an old man casts his fishing line into the water. And here, half way between the embankment and the water's edge, a small figure sits alone upon the grass.

The figure is unremarkable, non-noteworthy. It hardly registers in the awareness of the driver of the car that passes by along the road, is scarcely noticed by the teenager on the bicycle who pedals past on her way home from a school club meeting. In a way, the figure is invisible, in spite of its long red hair, in spite of its brightly colored clothing. It is nobody important; just a small figure sitting alone on the riverbank.

The river runs sluggishly on in the slanting sunlight of late afternoon. The figure sits still, facing the water, its legs half folded in front of it, its right arm draped loosely across one knee. Against the figure's other shoulder leans a sheathed sword, held naturally, as if it is the most familiar thing. The figure sits still, its face expressionless, its eyes hidden behind too-long bangs. It is not clear whether those eyes are watching the water, or simply looking inward.

The figure has been there since morning. As the afternoon wears on toward evening, it shows no sign of moving. And the river runs on, as it has done for centuries.

o-o-o

Yuriko struck a pose, stretching out the last note of the song and trying to keep her pitch from wavering. She didn't have a terribly good voice. She didn't even know the song all that well; she'd already botched the timing of a couple of the verses. But tonight that didn't really matter.

The music ended and she took a bow, cheeks flushed and glowing, hopping down from the small stage at the head of the room to a smattering of applause.

Rika patted her on the back and gave her a thumbs-up as she returned to her seat. She grinned at the praise, then sat back, crossing her legs and looking up again as a pair of pastel-suited girls from the admissions office took up the microphone.

Dinner had been good, naturally. It was hard to go wrong with the party platters of sushi. But Yuriko hadn't really gotten into the spirit of the evening until those two from admissions had broken out the eighties music.

Yuriko had never exactly liked the pop songs of the late eighties, but they were what she'd grown up with. Those songs had formed the backdrop of her high-school years, and so they were familiar, familiar enough for her to give in to Rika's prodding and take a turn on stage.

She'd also drunk a bit too much sake by that point.

These songs took her back, Yuriko thought as the pair on stage attempted to sing in harmony. Those had been good years, the years she'd spent in high school. Middle school hadn't been bad, either. At the time she may have been a little lonely, a little bored, but looking back...

They'd been the best years.

She'd never really been that close to her high-school friends, but she'd spent a lot of time hanging out with Sae and Sae's friends. Sae had been two grades behind her in school and so they'd overlapped only one year out of three, but their families had always lived close to each other and they'd always spent a lot of time together.

Those had been the days. Those had been the days when her greatest worries had been homework and exams and college applications, when her natural tendency toward ennui had been tempered by a blithe confidence that anything could happen, that all she had to do was wait for the magic to come along. That her future was wide open.

The song came to an end and the pair on stage threw kisses at their coworkers, giggling. Yuriko clapped and whistled, grinning, fully in the spirit of it all. Yes, she probably had drunk a bit too much sake. But it didn't matter. This happened only once a year.

The music segued into the next song, another one that Yuriko recognized from her high-school days. It had been a local Kamakura band; she was a little surprised that they'd made it onto the karaoke machine. They'd never really been big outside her hometown; she'd heard that they'd played some regular gigs in Yokohama nightclubs, but she'd been too young back then for that.

_Funny the world in a world all alone,  
I feel like I've lost everything that I own.  
Funny the funnies aren't funny  
anymore..._

Sae and her friends had been bigger fans than she'd been. But still, Yuriko had always tagged along to see the band when they'd played at the summer festival on the open-air bandstand, had cheered and danced around on the grass with the rest of the high-school kids.

This was a slower song, one she'd always found wistful. She smiled, humming along and feeling nostalgic.

_Funny to think 'bout the days that are gone.  
The breeze off the ocean, the songbirds that sang.  
The wind never blows through my house  
like it did once before..._

Hitomi had taken the end of the previous song as a signal to get up and say good night, leaving with one or two of the other women. It came to Yuriko suddenly how much she liked Hitomi, how fond she was of Rika. These people were good friends, precious to her. She watched Hitomi go, thoughtful. She should get to know them better. Now, while she had the chance. Because in the back of her mind she knew that they would not be together like this forever.

_And I thought to myself, the songs of my childhood,  
running around in the wilderness days.  
The grass and the trees and the sound of the churchbells,  
running around in my head..._

It really had seemed like those days would last forever. Hanging out with Sae, going to the beach after school, eating shaved ice in the summer with her high-school friends. When she'd started college it had still been in Kamakura, and it had seemed at first as if nothing had changed.

But by then, the people she knew had started to move on. Her high-school friends had split up, going off to university or getting jobs, some of them even starting a family. She'd meant to keep in touch, really she had, but she'd never been very good at it and eventually they'd all drifted away.

She was still close to Sae. But seeing her cousin every two or three weeks wasn't the same as seeing her every day, and Sae had grown up too.

She had thought that everyone would be together forever. It would have been nice.

_Funny these tears as they fall from my eyes.  
There're two kinds of tears, one from truth, one from lies.  
There's a broken soldier  
who's going home..._

But it had been impossible, of course. Her friends had all started walking their own paths, living their own lives. And she had stayed behind, waiting for the magic.

Yuriko's throat seized up unexpectedly, her eyes filling with tears. She wanted to go home. Not home to her apartment house, not even home to her parents' house, but _home,_ back, back to those carefree days of her childhood when her future could still have been anything, when she'd still believed that all she had to do was wait for the magic to come along. She had waited, and instead her doors had closed, one by one.

_Funny to think 'bout the days that are gone..._

"Hey Yuriko, I'm going to call it a night." Rika's chair scraped as the other woman got to her feet. "D'you want to come along?"

Yuriko sniffled, swallowed, and cleared her throat, glad for the distraction. She'd drunk a bit too much sake, and it was making her emotional.

"Yeah. Sure," she said. She got up and fished her shoulder-bag out from under her chair, then followed Rika toward the door, echoing the other woman's good-byes to their remaining colleagues.

She still had her job; she still had her parents and Sae. And her mother had finally convinced her to start going to marriage meetings. Maybe she would find someone, settle down to an ordinary life and start a family. That was what her mother had done, and her mother was happy.

Maybe waiting for the magic had been her mistake all along.

Yuriko followed Rika out of the air-conditioned restaurant and into the humid embrace of the night.

o-o-o

"Can I help you?"

Rika looked up, and scrambled hastily to her feet. The voice had been a little too flat to be friendly, a little too suspicious to be purely helpful.

No surprise, Rika thought. Here she was, a stranger, loitering on the front steps of Yuriko's apartment house.

"Sorry. No," Rika said as the other woman drew level with her at the base of the steps. "I was just walking Yuriko home. She lives here. I'm Fukuyama Rika; we share an office at work."

The other woman looked at her, gray eyes level under straight-cut bangs.

"Is Yuriko-san all right?"

"Fine!" Rika replied, a little defensively. "She was just a little tipsy, that's all. We had the staff party tonight." Rika smiled disarmingly, but the girl just looked back at her coldly. And a girl she was, not more than college-aged. Probably a freshman.

"That's not like her," the girl replied softly.

It wasn't just coldness in the girl's eyes, Rika realized. There was concern there as well.

"She... she had a bit of a rough day," Rika confided. "I think she just broke up with her boyfriend."

The other girl looked at her steadily. "I see," she said. There was a pause. "Thank you," she added. "I'll look out for her."

Rika sighed, unexpectedly relieved. "Thanks," she said. "I'd appreciate that."

The girl nodded.

"Well," Rika added, "good night, then." She gave the girl a smile, getting an unexpected hint of one in return. Then she turned and walked back out toward the street. It was a long way back home on the subway.

o-o-o

Yuriko dropped her shoulder-bag onto her low desk and sat down on the floor, briefly inspecting the padded manila envelope that she'd found leaning against the door to her room. There was a cellphone-sized lump inside, along with something hard and flat. Probably another photo from the matchmaker. The address was in her dad's blocky handwriting.

Yuriko sighed, relieved finally at the change in her luck. She must have left her phone at her parents' place after all. She set the package down on her desk and got up to change into her yukata. She'd had the presence of mind at least to nip into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, but now she needed to sleep.

Crunch time was over. Tomorrow was Saturday. Tomorrow, she'd have all the time in the world.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

The lyrics are from 'Funny the World' by Lawsuit. 


	31. Just a dream

** 31. Just a dream **

She is walking through a field, hurrying through a field, and there's a sense of urgency, a sense that she has to move faster or she'll be too late. She tries to break into a run but the grass is tall and it's dragging at her feet, the grass and the narrow kimono around her legs. She pushes her way forward, through the grass, her breath rasping in her throat.

The colors around her are strange, washed out, as if it's night. And it _is_ night, she sees now -- the sky is dark and there's a golden moon hanging low and huge in front of her, above the swaying grasses. It's susuki, that's what this grass is, she realizes as she pauses to catch her breath before plunging on again, susuki with its seed-heads ripe and heavy, swaying beneath the autumn moon.

And then she sees him, standing in the middle distance among the grasses as if waiting for her, his hair dulled to brown in this strange moonlight.

She can't see his eyes.

She clenches her teeth and pushes forward again, willing her legs on through this grass like a sea of molasses. He has that look on his face, that small smile that he uses to hide his feelings, and she can't see his eyes. Something is tangling around her legs now and she glances down, and it's a good thing she does because there's a chasm in the earth right in front of her.

She skids to a stop, her arms flailing for balance. There's a chasm in front of her, water running at its bottom far below, and he's standing waiting on the other side. Waiting for her? Can she cross this?

"Kenshin?" she calls out to him, and there's a tremor of fear in her voice because she can't cross this. He might be able to jump this far, but she can't cross this.

"Kaoru-dono," he replies, and the honorific puts that much more distance between them, a chasm in the heart as wide as the one in the earth in front of her. Blocking her path. She still can't see his eyes.

She takes a breath to call out again but he's still speaking, quietly so that she has to strain to hear.

"I'm a rurouni, that I am," he says, and his voice is gentle, apologetic. "It's time for me to go wandering again." And that's all, that's all he says, and he's turning away from her now and starting off already, each step taking him farther and she still hasn't seen his eyes--

"Kenshin!" she screams and she throws herself forward, and the chasm is right in front of her and she's falling, she's _falling--_

o-o-o

Yuriko woke with a gasp that tore at her throat. She was sitting bolt upright in her futon, breathing hard, her heart pounding in her ears.

Kenshin. He wasn't in the futon beside her.

Yuriko shook herself a little, wiped the wetness from her eyes.

No, of course he wasn't. Kenshin had his own room in the Kamiya house. Right?

She climbed to her feet, staggering a little with the lingering effects of sleep. Morning light was filtering brightly into the room. It picked out the outline of her low desk. The window was in the wrong place.

Yuriko wobbled over to the wall and reached across her desk to pull aside the curtain. Bright daylight streamed in, tinted blue by the sky, flooding the familiar room with brilliance.

Her familiar room, she thought groggily, squinting against the light. Not the Kamiya house.

Then Kenshin would be...

Not here.

She was awake immediately as the memory flooded back.

_I'm not her--_

Kenshin wouldn't be here. It was over, and Kenshin wouldn't be coming back.

"Oh god..." she squeaked.

The memories of that Thursday afternoon were all there, and the memories of the emotions that had come with it -- the fear, the terror, the desperate clinging to her own past and her own identity, the horror at the alien memories that had poured into her head. She had been worked up, had been anxious and stressed, and the panic over her father had hit far too close to home. But now, now in the clear light of morning, the emotions filling Yuriko were the emotions of her dream.

"Kenshin..." she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She had started to tremble all over. Her heart was beating fast, as if she were still running after him.

She had lost him. No, she hadn't lost him; she had thrown him away. That was much worse. Things lost could be found again. But things thrown away...

She pushed the thought aside. She had to find him. Find him and bring him back. But how?

Her phone. Of course! She had her phone back now; she could call him. Yuriko dove to her knees and snatched the padded envelope off her desk, peeling up the flap as quickly as she could. She jammed a hand in past the picture frame and grabbed her small flip-phone, dropping the envelope carelessly back onto her desk as she flipped the device open.

The small screen remained dark. The battery was dead.

"Damn it," she moaned through clenched teeth, and got up to fish the charger out of the bottom drawer of her dresser. The thin black cord trailed across the tatami as she reached around behind her desk to shove the plug into the wall socket. She reeled in the other end of the cord and jacked it into the bottom of her phone. The display lit up, the little bars above the battery icon pulsing.

Good, she thought. Finally. She raised her thumb over the keypad to dial, and then hesitated.

What was Kenshin's number, again? Yuriko wrinkled her forehead, bringing up her phone's address book and scrolling through the 'K's, then through the 'H's. Nothing. Naturally.

He hadn't given her a number in the days they'd been together. There'd been no need; he'd been here the whole time. Yuriko wondered now whether he'd even had a phone. She couldn't remember ever seeing him with one.

She dropped the phone onto her desk with a curse and leaned her forehead against her cupped palm.

Get a grip, she told herself. Of course Kenshin didn't have a phone. She'd been acting like an idiot all week; leaving her own phone at her parents' place had only been the start.

_Wait._

Yuriko blinked. She hadn't left her phone at her parents' place. She'd left it at Sae's place.

Yuriko raised her head, her expression puzzled. She could remember it clearly now, Sunday afternoon at Sae's. She could remember fishing her phone out of her shoulder-bag, flipping it open to call the apartment house and tell them she'd be late, tell them that they should start the house dinner without her. Could remember looking up into Kenshin's shock-widened eyes, and setting the phone aside.

It was her dad's handwriting on the envelope. Sae must have given the phone to her parents. But then Sae would have told them about Kenshin.

_Wait._

Yuriko blinked again. If her parents knew about Kenshin, why had they sent her another photo from the matchmaker?

Yuriko looked at the padded manila envelope for a long moment, then reached out to lift it off her desk. She felt it again, carefully -- definitely a picture frame inside. She slid her hand in and pulled out the frame, dropping the folded sheet of paper that came out with it absently onto her desk.

It was a simple bamboo frame, old-fashioned, a little larger than the usual four-by-six prints that she was used to seeing. The photo behind the glass was black and white and faded, its tones gone slightly to sepia.

The world around Yuriko went suddenly very still.

Kenshin was standing on the right-hand side of the picture, a cheerful smile on his face, his left hand resting relaxedly on top of the hilt of his sword. In front of him was Yahiko, looking brave and manly and ten years old, and on the other side Sanosuke, looking decidedly spooked. And sitting on the chair in the center, with Yahiko's hand on the shoulder of her kimono and a happy smile on her face, was herself.

"Huh." A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That trip to Yokohama."

On the chair in the center was herself.

The hairs stood up on the back of Yuriko's neck.

"That's me," she whispered. She got to her feet, holding the frame in both hands. "That's... that's _Kaoru_." She looked up from the picture, looked quickly around her room as if searching for answers. She flipped the frame over and paused, noticing the writing on the gray cardboard backing. A column of kanji in fading ink. They'd been written with a brush.

'Grandmother and grandfather before they were married. Meiji 11,' she read. The date was followed by a question mark in parentheses. She flipped the frame back over, searching Kenshin's face. He looked the same. Maybe very slightly younger. His clothes, his sword, his hair, the cross-shaped scar on his cheek -- it was all the same.

And on the chair in the center was herself.

Yuriko reached down and picked up the piece of paper from her desk, unfolding it one-handed. It was with reluctance that she pulled her eyes away from the photograph to read it.

Her dad's blocky handwriting, just like on the envelope.

'Dear Yuriko,' she read. 'This photo belonged to my grandmother. It's her writing on the back. Something very strange is going on. Please call us as soon as you can.' It was signed 'Dad,' and a postscript had been added in her mother's slanting hand. 'Yuriko darling, be careful. We love you. Mom.'

Her dad's grandmother, Yuriko thought. She flipped the frame over to glance again at the writing on its back, frowned, and turned it right-side up again. Looking at Kenshin's smile, captured in soft black-and-white.

There was something strange about all this, but whatever it was, her mind wasn't quite catching it. Instead, Yuriko's head felt perfectly clear, for the first time in days. She knew now what she had to do.

She had to find Kenshin.

o-o-o

"I couldn't find him." Maekawa Takeshi gave his wife an apologetic half-smile as he slipped into his chair at the table.

Yoko tilted her eyebrows at him anxiously and passed him a thick square of toast. "Nothing?"

Takeshi shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. "Himura, yes; Kenshin, yes; but Himura Kenshin, nothing."

"Did you try some other search engines?"

Takeshi sighed. "I tried some yellow-pages sites. But if he's not on Google, he's not going to be anywhere."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a little while, Yoko slowly stirring her coffee, Takeshi scraping butter into a thin film on the surface of his toast.

Normally he'd be scolded for logging on to the computer before breakfast, but this morning when Yoko had seen what he was doing she'd just patted him on the shoulder and gone downstairs to make the coffee.

He had tried everything he could think of, but with only a name to go by, there'd been little he could do. Normally the problem was too many search results, not none at all.

He sighed again and bit into his toast. Apparently the real world was still a lot bigger than the internet. That, or 'Himura Kenshin' had been a pseudonym from the beginning. He thought again about the face in the photograph, and about his grandmother's handwriting on the back.

When Kenshin had come knocking on their door, they'd suspected nothing. He had seemed so natural. He had seemed so harmless. They had invited him in like a member of the family.

And Takeshi hadn't been surprised at all when Kenshin had told them that he was some kind of distant relation. Not at all-- he'd been excited, he'd been delighted, and it had all been because of the hair. The hair was uncommon, obviously; uncommon enough that Sae referred to it with capital letters. But more than that, the hair was special.

Grandma Harumi's hair had been gray as far back as Takeshi could remember, but when she'd been young it had been auburn. Takeshi had been the only one to inherit it: out of all his siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles, he'd been the only one. Because of that, he'd been his grandma's favorite. She'd called him her Ginger Takeshi, shamelessly using the English word even though it was the fifties, even though the occupation hadn't even been over for a decade yet. It had made him quietly proud. And so when baby Yuriko's hair had come in auburn the same as her great-grandmother's, Takeshi had been delighted.

He'd been shocked the first time Yuriko had come home from kindergarten in tears. It had never occurred to him that the hair could be a stigma, that it could be used by the other children to single her out for harassment. He'd never been harassed about his, never, even in that conformist era before the wild start of the sixties. He and Yoko had gone to his parents for advice, and from them they'd found out why.

It had been because of his Grandma Harumi. It had been because no one in Kamakura had dared allow their children to harass Maekawa Harumi's grandson. The city had owed her too much. Maekawa Harumi had helped people when it had mattered the most. She'd made sure that everyone was looked after, that the old people got their rations even if they were sick, that the war orphans wound up safe under the roof of a neighboring family. She'd started with her ikebana club and finished with the whole city, pulling the people together one neighborhood at a time.

Takeshi hadn't even known about it as a child. Learning it then had only made him feel unutterably honored to have been that great woman's Ginger Takeshi.

He'd been proud of Yuriko's hair. And though he knew that she'd never felt that way about it herself, at least she hadn't hated it too much.

That was the thing, though. That hair, that specialness was why he'd been so thrilled when Kenshin had shown up at their door. That was why he'd invited him in, had told him all about their lives, had shown him Yuriko's photo and given him her address in Tokyo.

They hadn't been surprised at all that evening when he'd told them that he was some kind of distant relation. Takeshi's grandmother's maiden name had been Himura, and Kenshin had the hair. That, more than anything, had convinced him.

But that hair was also why he should have known, because no one else had hair like that. Takeshi was the only one. Takeshi and Yuriko.

It was easy enough to lie about a name. And hair, of course, could be dyed.

"Did you notice the color of his eyelashes?" Takeshi asked.

Yoko looked up from her coffee, surprised. "No. Did you?"

He smiled humorlessly. "I don't look at men that way."

"Well, I don't look at _children_ that way," Yoko retorted, annoyed.

"Children?" Takeshi raised his eyebrows.

"He's less than half our age!"

Takeshi sighed and took another bite of his toast. Yoko was right; that had been another reason why Kenshin had seemed so harmless. They'd both been only twenty-three when Yuriko had been born. Kenshin hadn't seemed any older than that.

"What I don't get is _how,_" Takeshi commented quietly. "That photo's been in a box in the closet for years."

Yoko shrugged, not looking up. "Maybe there's another print floating around somewhere."

"Hm." Takeshi chewed his toast in silence for a while, thinking of each of his siblings, of each of his cousins. Any of them could have a copy of that mysterious snapshot. But still, that explained nothing. It was just too bizarre.

He reached for his mug of coffee and glanced up at his wife. Yoko was sitting with one elbow on the table, her chin cupped in her palm, looking glumly at the telephone on the small table by the window.

"She'll call, love," he said softly. "Don't worry."

"She should've gotten her phone back yesterday," Yoko said. "Maybe we should just call her."

"It's Saturday. She probably got back late last night. She's probably just sleeping in." They both knew how much Yuriko liked her sleep on weekend mornings.

Yoko sighed. "You're right," she said. "But if she hasn't called by lunchtime..."

Takeshi looked at the phone. Normally they let Yuriko initiate the calls. It wasn't good to cling too tightly to one's adult children; they wanted Yuriko to have her independence, and they didn't want her to perceive them as being intrusive. He still felt bad about having tried to call her at work two days ago. That was why he hadn't done it again yesterday, even when Yoko had suggested it.

And it had never been an issue before. Yuriko called. Yuriko visited. Their daughter was preternaturally good about keeping in touch.

o-o-o

Yuriko sat on the subway train, staring intently out the window to scan the people on the platform as the train glided into a station. Her hands were balled into fists in her lap, her lips pressed into a tight frown of concentration.

Once she had realized what she had to do, it hadn't taken her long to get started. She had run downstairs, washed her face, gotten dressed. She had slid the precious photograph carefully back into its padded envelope and stashed it in her shoulder-bag, along with her now-recharged phone. She had downed a quick cup of tea and made some toast, and then she'd been out the door. Out looking for Kenshin.

But where to look? She had started by just wandering around the neighborhood, heading down to the market where Kenshin would have gone to buy groceries, threading her way up and down the side streets in the oppressive morning heat, standing for a little while in the park beside the children's playground. Standing as if lost, on the very spot where last she'd seen him.

Eventually she'd found herself in front of the subway station. She had seen him there, too, on Wednesday evening: he'd been waiting for her right there under the young tree in the middle of the concrete plaza, had hurried forward to tell her the bad news about Motoko and his silly disguise.

It seemed so trivial, now.

Yuriko sighed as the train started moving again, craning her neck to catch a last glimpse of the people getting off the other train that had just pulled in on the opposite side of the platform. Looking out for a flash of red hair amidst the sea of black.

How many people could she see in a day? A hundred? A thousand? Call it a thousand, she thought. If she kept that up, every day, how long would it take her to search all of Tokyo? Assuming no repeats... She did a mental calculation, counting powers of ten on her fingers. Ten thousand days; that would be--

That would be _thirty years_ to see every person in Tokyo!

"Ugh," Yuriko moaned, clunking her head back against the dark window.

Maybe she could see something more like ten thousand people in a day, she started to think, and then stopped herself. She couldn't think this way. She forced herself to sit up straight instead, to take a deep breath. She had to be smarter about this search. And that was exactly what she was doing, she told herself firmly. She was being smarter. She was using her head.

She was on her way to Asakusa.

_I've tried to come here at least once a week,_ Kenshin had said, three evenings ago at Sensouji Temple. He'd seemed comfortable there; it was only after they'd arrived at the temple complex and sat there quietly for a little while that he'd finally seemed to relax, finally seemed to let go of his obvious guilt over Motoko's discovery. If he'd gone there regularly over the past two months, he might go there again.

Yuriko clenched her hands around the cotton strap of her shoulder-bag, hoping desperately that he'd be there, that she'd cross under the gate at the top of Nakamise-dori and catch sight of his red hair among the Saturday crowds.

But even if he wasn't, she would keep looking. She was not going to give up. She would never give up, no matter how long it took. Because...

Because this...

She remembered the way she'd felt the first time she'd laid eyes on him, standing there in the doorway of Sae's apartment less than a week ago. She remembered the way his eyes had changed as he'd looked back at her. And she remembered how he'd made her feel, these evenings and mornings in the apartment house. It had been like she'd been complete.

Even with her parents, even with Sae, there was something that had always been missing. She loved them -- of course she loved them; they were her family -- but there'd always been that little gap, that little space that divided her innermost self from them. And her parents were her parents; Sae was Sae. They had their own interests, their own pursuits. Their own lives.

But Kenshin... Kenshin was different. Kenshin felt closer than that, so close that at times the gap between them had seemed almost to dissolve away.

Yuriko shifted on the plastic seat, gazing out into the flickering darkness of the subway tunnel. She was realizing things about herself that she hadn't expected. Looking inward at her own soul, she was finding that she was not exactly the same person that she'd always thought she was.

When she was a kid, she'd believed in magic. She'd believed in true love. She'd believed that all she had to do was wait, and the magic would come along and find her.

Kenshin was what she'd been waiting for. She would never give up this search, because this was _it_.

How could she ever have thought that waiting for the magic had been a mistake? The magic had come, she had waited and it had actually _come,_ landing right in the middle of her life in the form of a short redhead with a sword at his side.

She would never give up, because she'd been waiting for this all her life. She would never give up, because she loved him.

She loved him.

Yuriko sniffled and wiped at her eyes, turning to look intently out the window as the train glided up to the next station stop.

o-o-o

Yuriko crossed under the gate at the top of Nakamise-dori, clutching the strap of the bag on her shoulder and craning her neck to peer through the Saturday crowds. It was half past ten, and the wide plaza in front of the temple was thronged. She cut left out of the main path of the foot-traffic and stepped up onto one of the benches under the trees, using the raised vantage point to scan the crowd for the telltale flash of red hair under the mid-morning sun.

Nothing. He wasn't there.

Yuriko pressed her lips together in disappointment, glaring out at the crowd as if she could make Kenshin appear through the sheer force of her will.

Still nothing, of course. Yuriko sighed and hopped down from the bench, then sat down on it and pulled out her folding fan.

_I've tried to come here at least once a week,_ Kenshin had said.

She would wait for him, she thought as she fanned herself, the slight movement of the air making almost no difference in the sweltering heat. She gathered up her hair in one hand and lifted it off the back of her neck, waving her fan vigorously. She would wait a week if she had to, even in this heat, because she was not going to give up.

It wasn't just for her own sake. She remembered Kenshin's eyes, that night at the Akabeko. _Everyone's gone,_ he'd said. _Except you._

He needed her. He needed her, and she had thrown him away. She had already wasted an entire day, sleepwalking through the last batch of graduation applications and then singing stupid karaoke at the office party. He could be anywhere by now.

She would wait here for a week if she had to, but that would not be smart. If she was going to find Kenshin, she had to be smart. Yuriko took a breath and got up from the bench, closing her fan with a decisive snap and dropping it into her shoulder-bag.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

susuki - a type of tall grass; its ripe seed-heads, symbolizing rice ready for harvest, are a common trapping of full moon-viewing during the autumn.

ikebana - the art of flower-arranging. 


	32. To smile at all odds

** 32. To smile at all odds **

It had taken Yuriko twenty minutes to find a convenience store with a photocopier in the back, another five to buy a suitable felt-tipped pen and a roll of scotch tape. Now she stood before the opened machine's blank glass face and wiped her sweating palms against her skirt.

If she was going to find Kenshin, she had to be smart. This was what smart looked like.

She reached into her shoulder-bag and pulled out the padded manila envelope, slipped the picture frame out and laid it carefully face-down onto the glass. Then she lowered the lid and pressed the big green start button.

The idea had come to her on the bench at Sensouji Temple, and she had wondered why she hadn't thought of it earlier. Yuriko fished the copy out of the tray and inspected the image. She tweaked the contrast setting on the machine, increased the enlargement percentage a bit, and ran off another copy.

Better. Good, in fact. Photographs weren't easy to photocopy, but at least black-and-white ones came out better than color. She lifted the lid of the machine and slipped the precious photograph back into its envelope, tucking it safely away in her shoulder-bag. If she hadn't had that photo, she didn't know what she would've done.

Yuriko set the copy back down on the lid of the machine and creased the sheet into a careful square, folding Sanosuke and Kaoru back from the left, folding a half-cropped Yahiko back from the bottom. Kenshin's face remained, smiling distantly out of the old image.

_That trip to Yokohama._

Yuriko ignored the memory; there would be time for that later. Instead she crouched down and pulled open the copier's paper tray, slipping out a blank sheet and laying it horizontally on the top of the machine.

She taped Kenshin's face onto the left half of the page and then uncapped her new felt-tipped marker to write in large letters down the right-hand side.

_HAVE YOU SEEN HIMURA KENSHIN?  
- Short, thin, red hair.  
- Cross-shaped scar on left cheek.  
- Carries a sword.  
Please call Maekawa Yuriko._

She followed her name with her cellphone number, then hesitated for a moment, frowning at her work. She swallowed as she came to a decision. Quickly, she scrawled one more line at the bottom of the page.

_Kenshin, please come home. I miss you. -Kaoru._

Yuriko smiled a tight smile and slipped the sheet back onto the copier's glass, carefully aligning the corners. Then she closed the cover, punched in twenty copies, and hit the start button again.

o-o-o

"...No," the middle-aged attendant at the temple's souvenir booth said slowly. "No, miss, I'm sorry; he doesn't look familiar to me."

Yuriko bit her lip, disappointed. She'd waited patiently in line, a photocopied flyer in her hands, doing her best to ignore the jostling crowds and the sticky heat. The attendant smiled apologetically at her over his half-moon glasses and offered her back the page.

"Oh--" Yuriko started, awkwardly. "I was wondering if you might be able to put it up somewhere here. Please? I've got tape." She held up the roll of scotch tape from her shoulder-bag.

"Oh, well, I suppose," the attendant said doubtfully, looking around at the walls of the souvenir booth. "Maybe over there, by the concert posters?" He pointed to a scrappy bulletin board opposite his counter, where an array of glossy posters had been thumbtacked.

Yuriko smiled as charmingly as she could and bowed. "Thank you. Yes," she said. "That would be wonderful. Thank you." She started to turn away.

"Wait," the attendant added, ducking behind the counter briefly. "Thumbtacks," he said, and dropped four of them into Yuriko's palm. "Just don't cover up anything else, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Yuriko replied politely, feeling like a schoolgirl in unspecified trouble, and bowed again before scurrying off. She crouched down and tacked the top corners of one of her flyers onto a clear space on the board, pushing the little silver pins deep into the wood with her thumb. She ran a hand across the paper to smooth it down and paused to look again at Kenshin's smiling image.

_Where are you,_ she thought. The image held no clues for her. Kenshin's cheery smile was as opaque as it had ever been. He might as well have been wearing a mask. _Where?_

Yuriko sighed and pressed the two remaining tacks into the wood, then got to her feet. Every flyer would help, she told herself as she squeezed through the sweltering crowd back toward the main temple on the other side of the square. For all she knew he might even be here by now, hidden in the crowd, anonymous among the masses of humanity. Yuriko gripped the maroon strap of her shoulder-bag and stretched up on her toes to try to peer over the heads around her.

The clatter of the bell at the front of the shrine cut through the noise of the sun-drenched crowd. Steps, that was what she needed. Yuriko shouldered her way toward the main temple. The bell rattled again, followed by the usual clap-clap as a college girl bowed her head to pray for a moment. As Yuriko came up the wide concrete steps the girl looked up with a grin to her friends beside her, and she caught a snatch of conversation.

"What did you wish for? Tell me, come on!"

The other girl was blushing, smiling with embarrassment. Her ears had gone pink.

"For Morita-san to like you, wasn't it?" the third girl joined in. "I know that look! You can't hide it from us. You've got the biggest crush..."

Yuriko watched them, distracted, as their voices faded back into the crowd. She was up the steps now. She turned slowly in place, scanning the crowd for the flash of red hair in the sunshine.

No good. He still wasn't here. Yuriko squeezed her eyes closed and turned her face to the sky. She could just about cry with frustration.

The bell rattled behind her again, making her flinch. Another girl clapped twice and bowed her head over her hands.

Yuriko growled. Another college girl with a crush, no doubt. If only her problem were so simple.

She'd never done that, actually, never prayed for some boy to notice her. She'd never had cause to. She'd never had a crush like that; not in high school, not in college. Nothing worth praying for.

Nothing like Kenshin.

Yuriko considered for a moment, then fished the coin purse out of her shoulder-bag and picked out a ten-yen piece. Why not, she thought. It wouldn't do any harm.

She tossed the coin into the collection trough and grasped the thick bell-rope in both hands, shaking it violently. The bell rattled and clattered overhead. Yuriko brought her hands together, clap-clap, and closed her eyes.

If nothing else, this should at least calm her down.

"Kannon," she whispered silently.

"Nee-san?"

The tug at her skirt made Yuriko jump. She looked down, startled and momentarily disoriented. A small child was standing there, looking up at her from under the brim of a floppy yellow hat.

"Yes? What?" Yuriko collected her wits and crouched down to talk to the girl. "What is it, little one? Are you lost?"

"Why are you looking for Ken-nii?" The girl pointed a small finger up at the fliers sticking out of Yuriko's shoulder-bag. At Kenshin's face, smiling in black-and-white from the photocopies.

Yuriko shot to her feet. "You've seen Kenshin? When? Where? Where is he?"

The girl took an involuntary step back, startled by her sudden vehemence.

"No, wait; I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Yuriko crouched down again, pulling one of the fliers out of her bag. "Where did you see Kenshin? Can you tell me?"

The girl shrugged. "Here. A looong time ago," she said, stretching out the word.

"When was it? How long ago?"

"A loooong time ago." She stretched out the word even further. "Now I'm four. Then I was sill three." She held up three fingers and made eyes at Yuriko.

"Well, when did you turn four?" Yuriko asked.

The girl looked puzzled. "On my birthday," she said.

Obviously, Yuriko thought. Now what?

"Nee-san, _why_ are you looking for Ken-nii?"

Ah. Yuriko hadn't answered the girl's original question.

"I-- I have to find him," she started. "I have to find him, because--"

Because she loved him. Because he needed her. Because she didn't want to be alone again, again and for the rest of her life. Because--

The girl tilted her head to one side and looked up at Yuriko past the brim of her hat. "Are you Ken-nii's family?" she asked, almost shyly.

Because she was his family.

"Yes," she said impulsively. "Yes, I'm Kenshin's family."

It felt strange to say it. Yuriko wondered if it was true.

_Everyone's gone,_ Kenshin had said. _Except you._

The girl was nodding. "Okay then," she said, and started climbing carefully down the large steps.

"But--" Yuriko felt the moisture start in the corners of her eyes. It was almost noon already and she'd made zero progress.

"Oh. Wait." The girl stopped and fished in her two pockets, pulling out a round, shoyu-glazed rice cracker from each one. She held them side by side and inspected them, then offered one to Yuriko. "This one is for nee-san."

Yuriko took the cracker and looked at it dubiously. It was a bit linty.

"And this one's for Ken-nii." The girl held out the other cracker.

"But where do I find him?" Yuriko said almost to herself as she accepted the second cracker.

The child tilted her head to one side. "Ken-nii's family will know how to find him," she said. And then she was gone, down the last step and into the crowd, leaving Yuriko standing alone with a rice cracker in each hand.

o-o-o

Yuriko walked through Asakusa, her steps half-consciously following the route that she and Kenshin had taken three nights previously. The streets were different under the noontime sun of a Saturday -- different and yet the same. It was a different light, a different crowd, a different feel to the neighborhood; a changed atmosphere overlaid upon an invariant geography.

She'd paused in front of the Akabeko, looking up at its red plastic sign, unlit in the daytime. It had been a Saturday noon when she'd come here with Rika and Hitomi. Still, today, the place had looked different somehow. Different and yet the same.

Everything was different now. Nothing could be the same after Kenshin.

Yuriko had reached the riverside, inevitably. She leaned her forearms on the top of the concrete wall and looked out at the sluggish Sumidagawa, out at the buildings opposite. She wasn't even sure if this was the same spot where they'd stood together, looking out at the lights on the river under the darkened sky.

'Ken-nii's family will know how to find him,' the little girl had said. How that was supposed to help, Yuriko had no idea. Who was his family? How was she supposed to find them? Yuriko unsnapped the barrette from her left temple and pushed her fingers through her hair, letting air in against her sweat-damp scalp.

The girl had asked her if _she_ was Kenshin's family. And, on impulse, she'd said yes.

Kenshin's family, she thought. Yuriko wrinkled her forehead, looking out at the glassy blue of the buildings opposite.

Maybe her own family would be able to help.

Yuriko tensed and straightened up, blinking at the sudden inspiration. _Of course._ Kenshin had been visiting Sae when she'd first found him. Sae might know something -- where he'd been going, where he'd been staying, a phone number, anything. Yuriko scrabbled in her shoulder-bag for her phone, her heart beating fast. She flipped the device open, thumbing quickly through the recently-dialed numbers. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of this earlier.

Better late than never, she thought as she found Sae's name and hit the green 'call' button. And it was a quarter past twelve: at least Sae would be up by now.

She watched the screen until the phone connected, then held it up to her ear, feeling the little plastic tanuki charm bump against her knuckles, listening to the distant rings. One, two, three--

"Hi Yuriko, I see you got your phone back."

Yuriko let out a silent sigh of relief at the sound of her cousin's voice on the line.

"Hi Sae," she replied. "Yeah; thanks for that. Look, I need your help. It's about Kenshin."

"Yeah? What's up?"

Yuriko closed her eyes. "I've lost him," she said.

"_Lost_ him? How?" There was a change in the background noise on Sae's end of the line, as if the other woman had moved.

"I-- It's-- God, Sae, it's such a long story."

"Yeah?"

Yuriko steeled herself, taking a deep breath. "Basically, I flipped out. It's been a-- a really stressful week at work, and I just freaked out at him." It wasn't the whole story, but Yuriko wasn't sure she understood the whole story herself yet, certainly not well enough to explain it to someone else.

"And it was going so well," she added. "He must think I hate him now."

"Oh." It was a soft sound on Sae's end, not quite a word.

"So I'm searching for him now," Yuriko continued. "But I don't even know where to start."

"Oh. Yuriko."

Yuriko wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat. She had to be smart about this, she reminded herself. For Kenshin's sake. Because he needed her.

"What do you want me to do?" Sae's voice was calm, but the words were spoken with a steady strength. Sae was ready to help.

"Do you have anything? A phone number, an address, names, anything? Do you know where he was going? He said-- he said he'd been staying in Tokyo for the past couple of months, but I never got a chance to find out where."

"Um... I think he was following the festival circuit, but I didn't actually ask..."

"And Sae--" Yuriko continued. "If you see him, just-- just don't let him out of your sight, okay? Make sure he calls me. Tell him I'm sorry, and-- and that I love him."

The line was quiet.

"Sae?"

"Wow," Sae said, softly. "Absolutely."

"So, any--"

"Let me think." Sae was quiet for a moment. "I asked him about the festivals, and..." She trailed off.

Yuriko waited, twisting the strap of her shoulder-bag around the forefinger of her free hand. The festivals were a possible lead, although it didn't quite seem to fit. What would Kenshin be doing on the festival circuit?

"Oh my god, Yuriko, I have his address!"

"What! Where?"

"Yes! I have it!" Sae blurted. "He wrote it down for me! But he said he wouldn't be reachable there for a while 'cos he was going traveling. I just remembered."

"Where?" Yuriko asked again.

"I think it was Tokyo," Sae said. "It's at home; I'll have to dig it up for you when I get back."

Yuriko opened her mouth. So Sae was out; that would explain the road noise in the background. "So go get it!" she said.

"Yuriko, I'm in _Yokohama,_" Sae replied. "I'll get it for you as soon as I get back, but it's going to be like six o'clock."

"Yokohama?" Yuriko said the word as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

"Yeah, Yokohama. Look, I'm having lunch with Akane -- you remember Akane, right? -- and then I'm going shopping with her for a wedding dress. I can try to get an earlier train back, but I don't think..."

"No; it's fine." Yuriko bit her lip. "Thanks, Sae. Just call me when you get home, okay?"

"Sure. And I'll keep an eye out for him." Sae's smile was audible. "It's not like I could miss that hair of his. And hey, Yuriko? Congratulations. For falling in love."

Yuriko snorted in reply. "Yeah, if I ever find him again."

"You'll find him. He's not going to vanish off the face of the earth."

Yuriko bit her lip again, suddenly remembering her feeling that first afternoon. That feeling that if she took her eyes off him, he'd disappear and she'd lose him forever.

"Oh hey," Sae was saying, "and you should check with your folks too. They said Himura-san had visited them too; they might have some more information. I mean, he's some kind of distant cousin or something; they might have his parents' number, I don't know."

"Cousin?" Yuriko echoed. She'd just made that up, hadn't she? Her cousin from the country...

"Yeah." Sae paused. "You knew that, right?"

"Uh..."

"Isn't it obvious, with that hair of his? And your mom said, like, our great-grandmother's maiden name was Himura, or something like that."

"Oh." Yuriko frowned, trying to incorporate this new information.

_Anyway, it should have been Himura Kaoru. Kamiya had been her maiden--_

"Look, you'll find him," Sae cut in. "Call your folks. And then I'll take _you_ shopping for a wedding dress, too."

"Sae!" Yuriko felt herself blush. That last quip had definitely been a tease.

"Talk to you later, okay, Yuriko?"

Sae was grinning; she could hear it in her voice.

"Okay," Yuriko replied. "Tonight."

"Yeah. Six-ish. Bye."

"Bye, Sae." The line clicked, and went dead. Yuriko lowered the phone slowly, and flipped it absent-mindedly shut.

_This photo belonged to my grandmother,_ her dad had written. She thought again of Kaoru, and of her alien memories, and of the way Kenshin had seemed just a little bit out of place in this world. There was something more going on here.

But that oddness could wait. Finding Kenshin was more important now. She'd deal with the oddness after she knew he was safe.

Yuriko flipped her phone back open, and blinked. She'd missed a call. It must have been just now, while she was talking to Sae. Maybe her fliers--

Heart in her throat, she thumbed a button.

No; it was just her parents. For a moment the disappointment was almost painful.

Yuriko took a deep breath, trying to let go of the desperation. She'd find him, she told herself. It was still early. She'd find him.

And the next step was to call her parents anyway. She should have done it already; stupid of her not to. Surely her parents would be able to help.

And they'd asked her to call, too. _Please call us as soon as you can._ She'd forgotten about her dad's note until now. Negligent of her; she'd been too distracted, too focused on her search for Kenshin.

She pressed the 'call' button and brought the phone back up to her ear.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

Kannon - A goddess and/or bodhisattva. Kuan Yin in Chinese. Sensouji Temple is dedicated to her.

nee - big sister.

shoyu - soy sauce.

The title of this chapter is a tribute to Warg and his one-shot by the same name. 


	33. Complications

** 33. Complications **

"Maekawa residence."

"Hello, mom? It's me. Is-"

"Yuriko! Thank god." Yoko sagged against the wall, the flood of relief leaving her weak. She'd been hovering, pacing near the phone, debating how long she should wait before dialing again. She cupped a hand over the receiver and yelled up the stairs-- "Takeshi!" --then turned back to the phone. "Where are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm out, I'm in Asakusa. What is it? Did something happen?" Yuriko's voice was urgent. She must have picked up on the tension in Yoko's own.

When the phone had rung she'd been afraid for a horrible moment that it would be the police, calling to tell them they'd found her body.

"Are you alone?" Yoko demanded. "He's not with you, is he?"

"What--"

"Himura-san. He's not with you, is he?" She shot Takeshi a look as he rushed into the room.

"What, Kenshin? No, he's not; that's why I'm calling. Mom--"

"Thank god!" Yoko said again. "Oh, sweetheart, we were so worried. You've got to stay away from him, all right? At least until we find out what's going on--"

"What? Stay away from him?" Yuriko's voice was incredulous. "No, mom, I've got to _find_ him! Look, he's--"

"Yuriko, _no!_ This isn't safe. He's not what he seems; there's something going on with that man--"

"Mom--"

"Just stay away from him, all right? You don't know anything about his past."

"I do--"

"He could be a stalker, Yuriko. He could be a mass murderer!"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Yuriko?"

"I don't care about his past," Yuriko said flatly. Then the line went dead.

"Yuriko?" Yoko said it softly, knowing that her daughter wouldn't hear. There was a muted click from somewhere inside the telephone system, followed by the steady hum of the dial tone.

Slowly, numbly, she lowered the handset from her ear and laid it back onto its cradle. She stood there, beside the small table by the window, one hand still resting on the handset.

"It's our fault." She said the words softly, as if speaking to herself. She knew it was warm outside the window, knew it would be hot but for the breeze off the ocean, but in her mind she was standing in the freezing drizzle in a cemetery in Yokohama, a six-month-old Yuriko clutched in her arms.

"Yoko love?"

She looked up, and met her husband's eyes.

Takeshi had been there that day at the start of winter. They'd been married then for just over two years, living in Kamakura in the second floor of his parents' house. They'd both been young then. Neither of them had seen death up close.

She'd grown up poor in Yokohama, a family of five crammed into a tiny two-room flat, but it hadn't mattered. Everyone had been poor in those days, and she'd been happy. She'd been the good girl, doing well in school, looking after her two younger brothers while her mother went to work in the factory. She'd graduated from high school at seventeen, had gone to work at the seaside resorts in Kamakura, waiting tables and changing linens in the hotels.

She'd met Takeshi for the first time over an armful of daffodils. She'd been sent to buy flowers for the restaurant tables at the resort she'd been working at that spring. She hadn't smiled at him then. She had seen his flaming orange hair and had assumed he was one of the rowdy boys, one of the wild ones. It was the end of the sixties, after all, and a good girl had to be careful. But he hadn't been the wild type, after all. He'd been quiet, and conscientious, and a little bit shy.

It was her youngest brother who had turned out to be the wild type. And it was his funeral procession that she had walked in, her baby daughter in her arms and her husband holding an umbrella by her side. Dead at seventeen in a motorcycle accident.

He'd only been eleven when she'd left home. She hadn't been there to raise him properly.

Yoko cleared her throat. "It's-- it's our fault," she said again, louder, fighting the urge to cry. "We-- we didn't--"

"Yoko love, no." Takeshi slipped an arm around her and pressed her gently against his chest.

She closed her eyes, leaning into him. "It is," she said, her words muffled by his body. "We weren't there."

"No, love, no. We can't be there to protect her all the time."

"We should be."

Takeshi was silent. She felt him take a breath, heard him sigh.

"You're right," he said softly, and reached up to stroke her hair.

o-o-o

She had hung up on her mother.

Yuriko stood by the low concrete wall above the Sumidagawa and stared numbly at the phone in her hand. She had not expected this. She had never expected this.

_You've got to stay away from him._

It had never even occurred to her that her parents would react this way. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that her parents wouldn't help her with this. Her parents had always helped her with everything.

Why not with this? Why not, when this was the most important thing she'd ever done?

Yuriko closed her eyes, blocking out the view of the water and the buildings opposite, blocking out the blue sky and the hot golden sunshine. She should have known the answer to that already.

_I don't care about his past._

It was the truth, what she'd said; it was _her_ truth, down to the very core of her soul. But it wasn't her parents' truth. Her parents cared about people's pasts.

They had always been careful that way. They had taught her to be careful as well. They had taught her to ask, to learn something about her friends before she let herself get too close to them. They had taught her not to be too trusting. They had taught her not to be a risk-taker.

_He could be a mass murderer!_

Yuriko shook her head, as if to deny the possibility. Her parents couldn't understand. Her parents didn't know Kenshin the way she did.

But would it make a difference to them if they did know him?

_I'm not asking the hitokiri. I'm asking you, the rurouni, to stay._

Yuriko clutched at her phone, curling her last two fingers around the dangling tanuki charm. She had to call them back. She had to apologize. She had hung up on her _mother,_ and that was inexcusable. Never in her wildest dreams would she have considered doing such a thing.

She brought up her list of recently-dialed numbers, selected the one labeled 'home', and pressed the 'call' button.

She should have known already that her parents would care about Kenshin's past. It wouldn't matter to them what he had become since then.

_You said you didn't care about my past..._

She hadn't cared from the beginning. She didn't care now. Because if she had cared...

_I'm asking you, the rurouni, to stay._

If she had cared, he never would have stayed. He would have wandered on. He would have been alone until he died. And so would she.

"Maekawa residence."

It was her dad on the other end of the line, sounding calm and a little bit resigned. Yuriko's heart sank.

"Dad?" she said in a small voice. "Can I talk to mom, please?"

There was silence for a moment as the phone changed hands.

"Yuriko darling?" Her mother's voice was hesitant.

Yuriko closed her eyes again.

"Mom," she said. "I'm very, very sorry for hanging up on you. Please forgive me." She said it straightforwardly, and as humbly as she knew how. Now was no time for making excuses. What she had done was wrong.

"Yuriko..." Her mother sounded almost surprised. "Oh, sweetheart, of course I forgive you."

Yuriko sighed, half-relieved.

"I just want you to be safe, that's all," her mother continued. "I just want you to know something about a person's background before you get involved with him."

_You said you didn't care about my past..._

Yuriko squeezed her eyes shut. "All right," she said meekly.

"Thank you, sweetheart. It's just, it's important these days, you know?"

"Yeah. You're right, mom." Yuriko looked down at the concrete wall in front of her, feeling worthless.

"You should go home now, sweetheart," her mother continued. "We'll give you a call if we find anything out. But seriously, Yuriko darling, there's something very strange going on with that man, and this is just the best way, all right? There's no need for you to take any risks."

Yuriko bit her lip.

"All right, sweetheart?"

"All right, mom. I'm going to head home now."

"That's good, sweetheart." There was a satisfied smile in her mother's voice. "It'll all work out fine; you'll see. Talk to you later, all right, Yuriko?"

"All right, mom."

"Bye now, sweetheart."

"Bye, mom," Yuriko said.

o-o-o

Yuriko sat in the subway car, her shoulder-bag in her lap, and gazed blankly across at the colorful advertisements above the opposite windows as the train rumbled through its tunnel. She felt worthless. Worse than worthless; she felt pathetic, powerless, like a helpless child.

It had never occurred to her that her parents wouldn't help her with this. It had never occurred to her that they would be anything but delighted about Kenshin.

She hadn't asked them to help her look for him. She hadn't asked them if they had his address. She couldn't ask them, not after what her mother had said. Not after what she herself had done.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, still feeling awful about it. She had hung up on her mother! She had apologized, of course; her mother had forgiven her; but that didn't change the fact that she'd done such a thing. Her mother had told her to go home, and so she was going.

She was out of ideas, anyway. There wasn't much she could do now other than wander around aimlessly and tape up her flyers. Going home made sense now. She had to wait for Sae to call with that address.

Yuriko took a breath and sat up straight, trying to shake the feeling of impotent frustration. Her parents only wanted the best for her. Her parents only wanted her to be safe. But being safe was not the same as being happy.

Yuriko gazed across at the dark windows opposite, idly watching the reflections of the fluorescent tube lights in the ceiling of the subway car. Kaoru wouldn't have been helpless like this, she thought. Kaoru would have known what she should do. 


	34. The sympathy of strangers

** 34. The sympathy of strangers **

Yuriko slid her door shut behind her and flopped down onto the floor cushion, blowing out a tired breath. She had taken the long way back from the subway station, stopping to tape up her fliers all up and down Yanaka Ginza as well as at the usual spots that she frequented -- the convenience store, the hardware store, the public library. She'd realized of course that here around the neighborhood her housemates were bound to see them, that it wouldn't only be Motoko who'd know her and Kenshin's secret. But it didn't matter now, anyway. Her housemates would have to learn the truth sooner or later, and finding Kenshin was more important. Finding Kenshin was more important than anything.

By the time she'd gotten back to the apartment house she'd been ravenously hungry. She had made herself a cup of instant ramen, had eaten it at the dinner table with a tall glass of barley tea from the pitcher in the fridge. Midori had been around, unpacking a load of groceries, but she'd seen no one else. It had been half past two already, and anyone boring or cheap enough to be eating lunch at home on a Saturday must have finished up already. That had been a relief, at least.

Yuriko leaned back against the wall and propped her knees up in front of her, allowing herself a moment to rest. Sunlight dappled the tatami just beyond the toes of her socks, filtering in along with the steady sound of the cicadas through the lacy curtains that hung above her head.

She wasn't used to all this running around. But she wasn't going to give up now. She wasn't going to give up ever. She'd decided somewhere between the subway and home that she could do this, even without her parents' help. All she needed to do was wait for Sae to call with Kenshin's address. But there was no way she was just going to sit around until then. The sooner she could find him, the better. She just needed some leads. She just needed some clues.

Clues, Yuriko thought, half-wishing that she read more detective stories. She glanced at the stack of library books on the floor beside her desk: a couple of novels, a biography, some science popularizations. She'd only finished two of them. With Kenshin here, she'd been far too busy to read.

She sighed, idly flipping up the cover of the book on the top of the stack and letting it drop again. She'd read the first half of this one on the train to Kamakura last Friday evening. It had been rather interesting; a kind of scientific detective story, she supposed. But reading about the cosmic microwave background radiation wasn't going to bring her any closer to finding Kenshin. _His_ story wasn't written in the afterglow of the Big Bang.

But maybe it was written on paper.

Yuriko hopped up to her knees, eyes wide. Why hadn't she remembered this before? When she'd collected Kenshin's belongings from his room on Wednesday night there'd been a small sheaf of folded paper there. If he'd been in Tokyo for only two months, he might still be carrying around his address.

She dove for the far side of the room and snatched up Kenshin's reused grocery sack off the floor, shaking its contents hurriedly out onto her desk. The empty plastic vending-machine bottle bounced once and rolled off onto the tatami. Yuriko ignored it, reaching instead for the sheaf of paper. It was almost with reverence that she picked it up and carefully unfolded it. Two sheets of plain white paper, folded into eighths, the corners and creases starting to fuzz with wear.

Yuriko smoothed the pages flat on her desk and frowned, momentarily perplexed. It was a... a collection of names in Kenshin's abysmal handwriting, scattered around the page in a kind of diagram, like the organizational chart on the wall outside The Boss's office at work.

Then she spotted her own name. And her father's and mother's. And Sae's, and Sae's parents', and--

"It's a family tree," she said out loud. Kenshin had been carrying around a family tree.

Her own family tree.

What was it that Sae had said? _He's some kind of distant cousin or something..._ Yuriko's eyes widened and she slid the second sheet out beside the first, scanning the names at the ends of the tree's branches. If Kenshin were a cousin then he'd be on here too, and if he were on here then his parents would be. And then she'd be able to find him. With that information, she'd surely be able to find him.

Except that he wasn't. Yuriko scanned the two sheets again, her heart sinking. No Kenshin. But then, why would he need to include himself in these notes? He would know who his relations were. As for the rest of these names...

There were addresses scrawled in beside the last two generations or so, haphazardly and in pencil, squeezed onto the diagram wherever there had been space. Most of them in Tokyo; her parents and Sae and her dad's brother's family in Kamakura; the remainder scattered across Japan.

Addresses.

That must have been what he'd been doing those two months in Tokyo, she realized. Visiting relatives.

_Looking for you._

But why? Why drop everything and spend two months in a strange city where he didn't even know how to use the subway ticket machines, tracking down a bunch of distant cousins most of whom Yuriko hadn't even heard of?

_Everyone's gone. Except you._

Yuriko shook her head, puzzled. Everyone wasn't gone. All these people were still here. All these people.

She ran her eyes across the pages again, and another name jumped out at her. Himura. Himura Yusuke, his wife Mayumi, their two children. And an address, just over in Nakano. It would take her less than half an hour on the subway.

Yuriko got to her knees, reaching for her shoulder-bag. It was a lead, at least; the best lead she had. If Kenshin had visited Sae, if he had visited her own parents, then chances were good that he'd visited these Himuras as well. This family who shared his name.

Yuriko paused for a moment to run her eyes up that branch of the tree, up that line of Himuras. Yusuke. Yutaro. Kentaro. And Kenji, at the apex of the entire tree.

_Kenji._

There was a flicker of recognition there, just a hint of a feeling that she'd seen that name before. That she'd known a Kenji once.

Yuriko pushed the thought aside. There was still no Kenshin, and no branches drawn in where his name might attach. Maybe he was adopted, she thought idly.

It didn't matter anyway. She had a lead now, and the best thing she could do was follow it. She stacked the two pages and carefully refolded them, tucking them into her shoulder-bag as she got to her feet.

She would find him. If it was the only thing she ever did, she would find him. Yuriko slid open the door of her room and strode out into the hallway.

o-o-o

Ozaki Motoko stood at the top of the stairs and watched Yuriko go. Her face was expressionless, save for a brief tightening of the jaw, a moment's thinning of the lips. Her gaze was level, her gray eyes cold under straight-cut bangs.

She had been just a bit too late to call out, instead watching silently as the older woman scooped up her cream-and-maroon canvas shoulder-bag. And Yuriko, hurrying out the front door, had been too self-absorbed to notice her.

o-o-o

Yuriko perched on the edge of her seat in the subway car, Kenshin's folded notes clutched tightly in her hands and her heart beating fast with excitement. Finally, she was doing something. Finally, she was being smart again about this search.

The train began to slow and Yuriko got to her feet, catching hold of a hand-rail and slipping the notes back into her shoulder-bag. She'd changed trains already at Ohtemachi, and now here she was. Nakano. The end of the line. In all, the subway journey had taken her exactly thirty-four minutes.

The doors clunked open and Yuriko stepped down onto the platform, already heading briskly for the exit. She'd been to Nakano once or twice to go to the mall, but she knew that finding an apartment address in the sprawling ward was going to be a bit more of a challenge.

As it happened, finding the place was less difficult than Yuriko had feared. The relevant neighborhood was fairly close to the station, and the apartment tower had been well-marked on the map sign-boards. Pausing in front of the building to double-check the address, she wondered for a moment if Kenshin had stood in this very spot while deciphering his own handwriting. She could just see it: a small figure on the concrete beneath the pollarded ginkgoes, inconspicuous in bearing and yet distinctive for his red hair and antiquated clothing.

Yuriko's lips twitched into a small smile. It was a connection, however tenuous. She could imagine exactly how he'd look, studying the paper; could see his big eyes and tiny frown of concentration almost as if he were in front of her. With that thought, she started up the stairs, towards the Himuras' apartment.

She almost missed them. She reached the fourth floor in time to see a petite wavy-haired woman closing the door to number 480, two small children hovering close to her skirt.

"Excuse me," Yuriko began awkwardly. "Himura Mayumi-san?"

The woman looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you," Yuriko continued, ducking her head. "My name is Maekawa Yuriko and I'm kind of a... a distant cousin of your husband."

"Mommy!" the smaller child said in a loud whisper, tugging at Mayumi's skirt.

"Hush, Seiji-chan," she told him and then turned back to Yuriko. "Pleased to meet you," she said, with an uncertain look. "My husband is out right now, but..."

"Pleased to meet you, too," Yuriko returned the greeting with a quick bow. "I don't mean to keep you; I'm just... I'm looking for Himura Kenshin. I thought you might know where I could find him."

Yuriko's words brought a flicker of surprise to the other woman's face, but she was interrupted again by the little boy.

"Mommy, mommy, wet's go to the pawk!" the boy said, tugging at Mayumi's skirt again. The little girl had maneuvered herself behind Mayumi and was peeking out shyly around her side.

"Patience, Seiji-chan!" Mayumi said. "You know Himura Kenshin-san," she continued to Yuriko, with a half-surprised smile. "As for where you can find him, though..." She bit her lip, furrowing her brow. "I think... I think my husband might have his address. But he's gone in to the office for the afternoon. Would you... care to wait, perhaps...?" Mayumi held out her keys as if to reopen her door, her thin eyebrows raised questioningly at Yuriko.

"Mommy, wet's go to the _pawk!_" the boy insisted.

"No, please," Yuriko said hurriedly, waving her hands. "Don't inconvenience yourself for my sake. Maybe I can come to the park with you or something." And she gave Mayumi a half-embarrassed, half-hopeful smile.

Mayumi hesitated for a moment, and then smiled back.

o-o-o

"It's so strange," Himura Mayumi was saying. "This is two of you in two months."

Yuriko chuckled, leaning back on the park bench. They had walked the three blocks to the park, Mayumi with a child's hand in each of hers, Yuriko beside them, listening and nodding as the other woman told her about her children. Little Seiji was four and a half; Sakura, the girl, was six and in first grade. Both of them liked going to the park better than anything else in the world.

"It's not, really," Yuriko replied, looking out at the two kids romping in their floppy sun-hats. "I'm only here because of Kenshin."

Mayumi smiled. "It's still strange," she said. "Even if it's not a coincidence. I mean, Yusuke never knew he had any relatives at all. No siblings, no cousins..." She paused, taking a breath. "After his parents passed away, he thought he was all alone." She shot Yuriko a smile. "That's why we wanted to have more than one child, you know?"

"Mm," Yuriko nodded thoughtfully. She had taken an immediate liking to Mayumi. The woman was her age, maybe even a year or two younger, but the children made her seem mature. Mature, and down to earth. Mayumi cared about the important things. And she was very friendly.

"I mean, it's different for me, but still kind of the same," Mayumi was saying. "I've got loads of relatives, but still, they're all back in Hokkaido."

"Hokkaido!" Yuriko said. "I thought you had a bit of an accent."

"Do I still? I thought I'd lost most of it by now." Mayumi laughed. "I used to practice when I was a kid. In front of the TV, you know? I'd listen to the newscasts and try to repeat them back in that Tokyo accent." She grinned over at Yuriko. "I wanted to be an actress. That's why I left home and came down to Tokyo. Or a voice actress; that would've been fine too. I'm not really pretty enough to be an actress."

"Oh--" Yuriko began.

"Oh, come on, I'm not." Mayumi laughed again. "But you know, I always tell the kids, you've got to follow your dreams. Even if they don't turn out: if you don't try, you'll never know. And even if they really don't turn out, something good'll still happen. I mean, I came down to Tokyo to try to be an actress, and instead I met Yusuke. That never would've happened if I'd stayed in Hokkaido."

"Mm," Yuriko replied, thinking of her own move to Tokyo four years ago. She hadn't exactly been following her dreams; it was the permanent job that had brought her here.

"Sakura-chan!" Mayumi called out suddenly. "Don't climb on those rocks, it's dangerous!" She waited for a moment while the little girl climbed sheepishly back down. "Good girl. Why don't you go play with your brother, okay?" Mayumi watched her children for a little while, then turned back to Yuriko.

"It's too bad Yusuke had to go in today," she continued. "He doesn't normally have to work on the weekends but there was some contract stuff he didn't get done on Friday." She smiled. "He's a bit too conscientious, if you ask me. But really, you know? Yusuke's gone from no relatives in the whole world to two of you in just a couple of months. Kenshin-san, and now you, Yuriko-san."

"It's not just two," Yuriko said with a grin.

"Oh?"

Yuriko raised an eyebrow conspiratorially and reached into her shoulder-bag for Kenshin's notes. "Just wait 'til you see this," she said. She unfolded the papers carefully, smoothed them on her knee, and passed them to Mayumi.

The other woman's lips parted in surprise. "What...?" she breathed.

"You guys are here," Yuriko said, pointing to the Himura family on the edge of the first sheet of the diagram. "I'm on the next page."

Mayumi flipped the second sheet out beside the first.

"That's me and my folks," Yuriko continued, pointing. "That's my cousin Sae -- her parents moved to Shizuoka after she started college -- and there's dad's younger brother and his little kids. They're all just down in Kamakura. And that was all I knew about before I saw this. We've got a whole slew of-- of second and third cousins right here in Tokyo."

"This-- This is _amazing,_" Mayumi breathed. "Can I have a copy of this? Yusuke will be..."

"It's not mine," Yuriko said. "It's Kenshin's. But sure, I can copy it for you. I'm sure Kenshin wouldn't mind."

"Seiji-chan!" Mayumi yelled across the park. "Stop pulling your sister's hair!" She waited until the kids resumed their play. "So where's Kenshin-san on this?" she asked, flipping back to the first page of the notes.

"I'm not sure."

Mayumi looked up at her questioningly.

"I guess he just didn't bother writing himself in," Yuriko explained. "I mean, these were just his notes; it wasn't like he meant to show them to anyone else."

Mayumi smiled softly, looking at the sprawling family tree. "Yusuke's going to be so happy," she said. She sighed, looking up for a few moments to watch the children play. "You know, I was just thinking about Kenshin-san the other day," she went on, thoughtfully. "I was thinking it would be nice to look him up again, to invite him back over."

Yuriko tilted her head to one side. "You didn't ask him back?"

"No." Mayumi shook her head. "I mean, we didn't want to impose. I'm sure Kenshin-san's got his own things to do. He's kinfolk, yeah... but he's still a stranger, you know? And it's not really for me to decide. It's Yusuke he's related to, and Yusuke's been so busy these past few months." She sighed, looking out at the children.

"The kids loved him, though," she continued. "He was only here for one afternoon, but they just loved him to bits. Even Sakura-chan, and she's usually so shy around strangers. We came out here to the park. He played with them for hours." She glanced over at Yuriko. "But I was thinking... It would be nice to have him around again. What with number three on the way." She laid a hand on her belly and gave Yuriko a shy smile.

"C- Congratulations!" Yuriko stuttered, surprised. Two children already seemed like a lot to her. Three just seemed frightening.

"We only found out last week. We haven't told the kids yet. But it'll be wonderful for them. None of them will ever have to be alone."

Alone, Yuriko thought. Kenshin had been alone.

_Everyone's gone._

Even with all these relatives, he had been alone.

_Everyone. Except you._

She hugged herself, suddenly cold in spite of the cloying heat of the day. "My god," she said to herself. "I've got to find him."

"Hmm?"

Yuriko looked up. She hadn't meant to speak the words out loud. "It's not--"

"Sakura-chan!" Mayumi yelled suddenly. "Stop making your brother cry!" She watched the kids for a moment, grimacing anxiously. Seiji was kneeling in the grass, starting to sob, and it looked like Sakura was crying as well.

"Excuse me," Mayumi added apologetically to Yuriko, getting up off the bench. "I need to take care of this."

Yuriko jumped up to follow, tucking Kenshin's notes back into her bag. Mayumi had made a quick check that neither of the kids was actually hurt, then headed toward her daughter with a quick glance back at Yuriko. "Would you?" She indicated Seiji briefly with her eyes. "Sakura's shy."

Yuriko hurried over to the boy. "Seiji-chan?" she began hesitantly. She'd never dealt with a crying child before, and didn't quite know how to start. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Sakuwa-chan," the boy sobbed. "Sakuwa-chan said it's aww my fauwt."

"What's your fault?" She knelt down in front of him in the grass and laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Sakuwa-chan said it's aww my fauwt. She said Ken-nii won't come back because I can't tawk pwoperwy."

Yuriko blinked. Ken-nii. The little girl in Asakusa had used the same name. _The kids loved him,_ Mayumi had said.

"Oh, Seiji-chan, it's not your fault! Kenshin wouldn't care about something like that!"

"Then why won't Ken-nii come back? I thought he wiked pwaying with us."

"Seiji-chan..."

Kenshin had spent a day with this family. A day, and that was all. And then he had wandered on. They hadn't asked him to return.

_I'm asking you, the rurouni..._

Kenshin had been alone. Even with his chart full of relatives, he had been alone. Until he'd found her.

"Seiji-chan," she started slowly. "You know how sometimes there's one kid in the park who plays all by himself, even if there're other kids around, just because no one asked him to play with them?"

"Yeah?" Seiji nodded, sniffling.

"Even though the other kids would be happy to play with him, that one kid will play alone because he doesn't know. He thinks that because no one asked him, no one wants to play with him. He thinks he's not worthy." She paused, looking out at the empty swing set and slide, baking in the July sun. "Kenshin's like that."

"Weawwy?" Seiji wiped at his nose with a grubby hand.

"Really." Yuriko fished a packet of kleenex out of her shoulder-bag and offered a tissue to the boy. "Here, Seiji-chan. Blow your nose." He did, inexpertly, then turned tear-reddened eyes back up toward Yuriko.

"But if Ken-nii won't come back, how can we ask him?"

"I'll ask him," Yuriko said. "But first I have to find him. Seiji-chan, will you do something for me? Will you help me find Kenshin?"

Seiji nodded, his eyes huge. "Do you want me to go wook for him?"

"No," Yuriko said hastily. The last thing she wanted was to cause Mayumi's children to wander off looking for Kenshin. "All you have to do is keep an eye out for him, okay?"

"Okay."

"And if you see him, make sure you tell him that Yuriko wants him to come back."

"Yuwiko," Seiji echoed thoughtfully. "But what if I don't see him?"

"Don't worry. I'm looking for him. And I'm going to find him, for sure."

"Fow suwe?"

"For sure."

"Pwomise?"

"I promise."

Seiji smiled, delighted, and jumped up. "Sakuwa-chan!" he yelled, then ran off in his sister's direction. "Yuwiko-nee-san says she's gonna bwing Ken-nii back! She pwomised!"

Yuriko got to her feet, a strange mix of eagerness, anxiety and pride roiling in her stomach. She'd just made a promise to a child, a promise she wasn't entirely sure she could fulfill. And it was more than that. Unexpectedly, she'd gotten involved with this family. She and Mayumi had traded phone numbers, and Yuriko knew already that this was going to be different than her colleagues at work, different than her housemates. Those people she saw automatically, day after day. Mayumi, though... Mayumi had just become a _friend_. Yuriko stood there for a moment, watching Mayumi watch her children. The two kids were running around, happy again.

Kenshin should be here, she thought. He should be here to see this, because he loved children. Yuriko smiled, imagining what he'd be doing. He'd be out there with the kids, running around with them, giving them piggy-back rides, squatting in the sandbox with them and helping them dig holes and build mounds, pretending they were building the houses and streets of Tokyo. She remembered him running around the yard with the two little girls, neighbor's kids they must have been, and with... Kenji...

"Yusuke!"

Mayumi's delighted shout scattered Yuriko's thoughts, and she turned quickly to follow the other woman's gaze.

He was walking towards them across the small park, a man of medium height and medium build in a nondescript suit and a standard salaryman's haircut. But there was something about his face, about the shape of his cheekbones and jaw that seemed familiar, that reminded her of--

_-- father --_

"Daddy, daddy!" Sakura had reached her father first, and he'd set down his briefcase to scoop her up in his arms and twirl her around.

"Sakura-chan! What did you do today, sweetheart?"

"Daddy, daddy!" Seiji had joined the party, reaching up and bouncing on his toes.

Yusuke set down his daughter and picked Seiji up for a twirl as well, then crouched down to listen to them both.

"Daddy," Seiji was saying, a little breathlessly. "We met a nice wady cawwed Yuwiko-nee-san and she said she was wooking for Ken-nii and when she found him she'd bwing him back to pway with us again!"

"Oh?" Yusuke replied, getting to his feet and taking a child's hand in each of his. "That's nice, Seiji-chan. Will you introduce me? Mayumi love," he added, giving his wife a quick kiss, then looking up again at Yuriko. "You must be Seiji's new friend," he said with a half-sheepish smile.

Yuriko smiled back. Mayumi's husband looked entirely the part of the junior office worker, called away from his family to put in a few extra hours on the weekend. She could see now that he was no older than herself. "Maekawa Yuriko," she said with a polite bow.

"Himura Yusuke." He returned the bow. "I see you've already met my family."

"Yuriko-san came by to see if we might have Kenshin-san's address," Mayumi said. "I couldn't remember if you'd gotten it from him or not. The kids and I were just on our way out to the park so she came along to wait for you."

"Kenshin-san? Sure, I've got it. It's at home in the file drawer. Come on, kids," he added to his two children. "Are you ready to go home and have dinner now?"

"Yeah!" Sakura said.

"Yeah, daddy!" Seiji added.

Mayumi chuckled as they set off together back toward the street. "Oh--" she said suddenly as if a thought had just struck her. "Yuriko-san, would you possibly be interested in staying for dinner? It's nothing fancy, but you're more than welcome to join us."

Yuriko's stomach gurgled emptily. "I--" she began awkwardly. "Thank you, Mayumi-san, that's very kind, but I'd better not, really. I... Once I get that address I should go see if I can find him."

"It's urgent then." Mayumi seemed surprised.

Yuriko squirmed. "Not... terribly," she said. "It's... It's kind of a long story."

Mayumi smiled understandingly. "That's fine," she said. "Tell me about it later though, okay? It'd be nice to keep in touch." Her smile had turned just the slightest bit shy, dimpling one cheek.

Yuriko smiled back. Of course she would keep in touch. She'd just made a new friend. 


	35. Dead ends

** 35. Dead ends **

Yuriko was only four streets away from the Nakano subway station when her phone rang.

"Sae! Hey!" Yuriko kept walking, the phone cupped at her cheek. It was almost ten to six; Sae hadn't managed to catch an earlier train after all.

"Yuriko, I'm home! I've got it! The address! D'you have a pen?"

"It's okay, Sae, I've got it already. This place in Shinjuku?" She dug in her shoulder-bag for the sheet of note-paper that Yusuke had given her and rattled off the address.

"Wha-- Yes! How did you-- Your folks? So have you found him then?"

"No; I'm on my way to the subway right now. My parents didn't have it; I got it from the Himuras!"

"The Himuras?" Sae sounded perplexed.

"Yeah, the Himuras!" Yuriko almost jumped with excitement under the pollarded ginkgoes. "Yusuke-san and Mayumi-san. They're like, our third cousins or something. Sae, we've got _relatives!_ All over Tokyo!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's kind of amazing! I'll send you a copy when I have a chance, okay?"

"Um, okay." Sae seemed at a loss. "A copy of what?"

"This-- this _family tree_." Yuriko waved an arm as if to explain. "It was Kenshin's. That's what he was doing, Sae, he was visiting relatives! All over Tokyo, and then us!"

"Oh. Cool, I guess."

"Isn't it? I never even knew about them."

"Um, so what--?"

"Hang on, Sae, I'm at the subway. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay, yeah. Good luck, okay?"

"Thanks. And Sae-- Thanks for finding the address for me. Even if I did just get it from Yusuke-san. I never would've thought of it if you hadn't mentioned it."

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" The smile was audible in Sae's voice. "Call me later, okay? Bye, Yuriko."

"Bye, Sae."

Yuriko flipped her phone shut and leaped into the air, a victorious grin all over her face, barely restraining herself from whooping out loud. This was it. She had Kenshin's address. And it was just like the little girl at the temple had said: _Ken-nii's family will know how to find him._

It was just over in Shinjuku. Three subway stops and she'd be there. She dropped her phone into her shoulder-bag and strode into the air-conditioned station, moving fast now. She paused briefly to press her pass against the RF reader on the gates and then ran on down the stairs.

A train was there already, boarding. Yuriko dashed across the platform and slipped between the doors just before they clunked closed.

_Yes!_ Another triumphant grin, because she'd done it. She'd been smart and she'd _done_ it. She settled into a seat as the train eased into motion, sending a quiet thanks to Mayumi and Yusuke.

The thought of them still gave her a warm and happy feeling. She _liked_ Mayumi, really liked her, really felt like she'd connected with her. It was such an uncommon feeling, so unlike anything she'd felt with her housemates, with her coworkers, with anyone at all really since she'd left Kamakura. This time, she would definitely keep in touch.

They were so _nice,_ too, Mayumi and Yusuke both. And they were relatives. Yusuke even looked a bit like her dad.

Like her dad?

No, he didn't. Yuriko frowned, remembering Yusuke's face. He didn't look anything like her dad. So why had she thought--?

Not like her dad. Like someone else. There was a half-memory there, another face that Yusuke had reminded her of. Yuriko chewed her lip, gazing into the moving darkness outside the train's window, trying to place the memory. A tall man, dark-haired and rather handsome, with the same cheekbones and jawline... The image flickered in her mind's eye for a moment, and then was gone.

Yuriko shook her head, glancing up at the route map as the train pulled into the next station. It didn't really matter. But it was puzzling. It still made her wonder: where had she seen that face before?

A few passengers had stepped off onto the station platform; a few others had boarded. The doors clunked shut again and the train pulled away.

Yuriko turned the memory of Yusuke's face over in her mind, replaying the moment when she'd looked up and seen him coming across the park. She had felt it then: something about his face, about the shape of his cheekbones... There was someone else those cheekbones reminded her of, someone she'd seen in... in a photograph?

Was it--? Yuriko blinked and reached into her shoulder-bag, pulling out the padded manila envelope. Was it this? She stared at the stiff orange-yellow paper for a long moment before lifting the flap and sliding out the envelope's precious contents.

Yes, she thought, gazing down at the black-and-white image. It was Kaoru. Yusuke looked a little like Kaoru. One would almost have to see the two of them side-by-side to see the family resemblance, but it was there.

_The family resemblance._

Yuriko's eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement, and then widened.

_That's me. That's Kaoru._

Had there been a Kaoru in Kenshin's family tree? She grabbed the papers out of her shoulder-bag and spread them on her lap. Kaoru was a name that would have jumped out at her, the way Himura had. She ran her eyes down the branches of the tree, first on one page, then the other.

Nothing. No Kaoru.

Odd.

Yuriko glanced up as the train slowed into another station, peering out the window to read the name painted in neat black kanji on the white wall opposite. Only one stop away from Shinjuku. She ought to get ready, she thought as the doors opened.

She picked up the framed photo from her lap, subconsciously returning Kaoru's bright smile. The more she thought about it, the more clear the resemblance was. Kaoru was kinfolk too.

_-- That's me --_

Odd that her name wasn't there, Yuriko thought as the train pulled away from the station again. Maybe Kenshin had left out a branch or two of his tree. His own name wasn't on it either, after all. She glanced back at the family tree, wondering for a moment where another branch would fit in. Maybe near her parents? Her dad's siblings were both there...

_This photo belonged to my grandmother._

Yuriko's eyes flicked up the page, following the lines back over onto the first sheet. Yes; her dad's grandmother was there as well, of course, near the very top of the tree. Harumi. Kenji's first daughter.

Kenji's first daughter...

Yuriko flipped the photograph over, reading again the brushstrokes on its back.

_Grandmother and grandfather before they were married. Meiji 11._

Her dad's grandmother's grandparents would have been Kenji's parents.

_Meiji 11._

For a moment, Yuriko just looked at the faded writing.

_-- I'm not asking the hitokiri --_

There hadn't been hitokiri since the Bakumatsu, had there.

Yuriko shook her head, pushing the thought away. The train was starting to slow down again; she'd be in Shinjuku in a minute. She slipped the photograph quickly back into its padded envelope, then refolded Kenshin's notes and stuffed it all back into her bag. She'd be in Shinjuku in a minute, and then she could ask Kenshin herself.

_Kenshin._ The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her body, a grin of anticipation across her face. She could picture just how he'd look, opening the door to her knock: those violet eyes of his going first wide with surprise and then... and then freezing in a kind of awkward terror.

Yuriko winced. She'd run away from him, hadn't she. But that couldn't matter. That _wouldn't_ matter. She'd have to apologize, sure, but she'd never been afraid of apologizing. No matter what it took, she would make it all right. Because this was Kenshin, and she loved him.

The train came out of the darkness into the white light of Shinjuku Station and braked to a halt. Yuriko slung her bag over her shoulder and leapt to her feet.

o-o-o

Yuriko glanced down at the slip of paper in her hand, double-checking the address, and then frowned back up at the numbers above the door of the noodle shop. This was it. No doubt about it. This was the address that Yusuke had given her.

Finding the place had been harder than she'd expected. It was ironic how much more poorly signposted Shinjuku was than Nakano, especially considering that the city government was centered here. With the huge office towers taking up entire sets of blocks, the actual addresses were scattered confusingly, squeezed down side-streets and huddled around the shaded slips of green-space. She'd walked by the noodle shop three times before she'd finally spotted it, facing onto a pleasant sunken courtyard lined with small eateries, shielded by a long trellis of wisteria from one of the major arteries not four blocks from city hall.

Yuriko sighed and reached out for the door handle, trying to quash the flutter of doubt in her stomach. Maybe there were apartments upstairs or something, she thought as she pulled the door open. Maybe Kenshin was renting a room here. Or maybe Yusuke had transposed a couple of digits in the address. She frowned back down at the notepaper in her hand.

"Table for one?"

Yuriko looked up. The speaker was a youngish man in short sleeves and an apron, with a thin white towel twisted into a rope and knotted around his head. He gave her a slight but hopeful smile.

"I, ah..." Yuriko glanced quickly around the small restaurant's bright and well-scrubbed interior. A few bland-looking men in business suits were scattered around the small tables, eating their noodles in silence. "I'm looking for someone, actually," she said, ducking her head and rummaging in her shoulder-bag to cover her embarrassment. "He, um, I was given this address for him. Would you know if he's staying around here?" She slipped a flyer out of her stack and held it out to the man. "Himura Kenshin."

_He knows!_ The thought came to her immediately; it was something in his face, something in his body language, some flash of recognition as she'd spoken Kenshin's name. He was hesitating though, eyeing her uncertainly as if unsure whether he could trust her. Then a kind of relief flickered in his eyes and she felt him relax.

"You're a relative," he said.

Yuriko blinked, surprised. How did he know...?

The relief in his eyes was replaced almost immediately by embarrassment. He reached up to rub the back of his head with one hand, turning his eyes aside. "I, ah, I'm sorry," he said, grinning awkwardly. "I assumed, because of your hair--"

Because of her hair.

"My--?" Yuriko started.

Because of her auburn hair, which she'd gotten from her father. Which he'd gotten from his own ancestors. Because of the red in her hair, so uncommon that Sae referred to it in capital letters.

"Ye- Yes," Yuriko said. "A relative."

She'd never liked her hair. It marked her; it made her stand out. It made her _different,_ and it was hard being different. And maybe because of that, she'd always thought that it wasn't quite _her_. She'd always thought that she ought to have long black hair, like Sae's.

Like Kaoru's, in the photograph.

She pushed the thought aside and looked back impatiently at the man in the apron. "Where is he, then? Have you seen him?"

"You just missed him," he replied with a smile.

"He was here?" The question was almost a gasp. "When? Do you know where he is?"

"No, no; sorry. I didn't mean just now." He winced, holding up his hands as if to wave away the misunderstanding. "Himura-san left about a week and a half ago. He... he just said he was going traveling for a while." He laid a hand on the back of his head again, thoughtfully, resting the other fist against his hip. "He didn't say when he'd be back." He met her eyes and tilted his eyebrows sympathetically. "Sorry, miss."

Something stilled inside Yuriko. A week and a half ago. Kenshin had gone traveling, indeed; he'd gone to Kamakura. She already knew that much. This meant that he hadn't been back here since then.

The man had his head tilted to one side, reading the handwritten text on her flyer. "If you want, I can put that up for you, miss," he said softly. "If Himura-san comes around again, I can ask him to call you."

"Thanks," Yuriko said thickly. "Yeah. That would be nice." She let him take the flyer.

The man gave her a brief and uncertain smile. "I'm Nomura, by the way," he said, somewhat awkwardly.

"Maekawa Yuriko," she replied automatically. They exchanged bows. "Nice to meet you." She smiled at him politely through the numbness.

Kenshin wasn't here. She'd been so confident, so sure that once she'd gotten her hands on this address that she'd just knock on the door and he'd open it. But he wasn't here, hadn't been here for a week and a half.

This had been her only lead. And now she was standing here, tired and hungry, without the first inkling of what she should do next.

"So, ah, did you want that table then, Maekawa-san?" Nomura was still standing there awkwardly, his hands clasped in front of his apron.

Yuriko snapped back to the present. "Yeah," she said. "Please." She might as well, she thought. Her stomach was gurgling emptily again, and until she figured out what to do next it made sense to keep her strength up. Besides, Nomura might know something more, something that she could pull a few more clues out of.

"Could I just get some cold soba, please?" she asked as he showed her to a table.

"Sure." He gave her a quick nod and headed back toward the kitchen.

Yuriko hung her shoulder-bag on the back of the chair and sat down, moving slowly. The numb shock of the initial disappointment was wearing off, leaving behind a grinding anxiety. She laid her hands on the table and forced herself to breathe through the tightness in her stomach, through the stillness in her chest.

_-- I'm not her --_

It had been forty-eight hours already.

_-- I'm not Kaoru --_

Forty-eight hours. He could be anywhere in the world by now.

"Here you go." Nomura set down a teapot and a small cup on her table, startling her. "Soba'll be ready in a minute." And then he was gone.

Yuriko closed her eyes and took a breath, then reached out and poured herself a cup of tea. Get a grip, she told herself, downing the warm liquid. She had to think. She had to be smart about this, or she'd never find him. She poured herself another cup of tea, picked it up, put it down again.

It was no good. She couldn't think, she couldn't concentrate. It was just too much. She felt jittery, like she'd drunk too much coffee, her thoughts running around and around in tiny circles. _He could be anywhere--_

"Here you go: cold soba." Nomura had returned, setting the tray in front of her with a quick smile. "Nice with this hot weather, eh?"

"Thank you," Yuriko said briefly, and Nomura turned to go. "Ah-- Nomura-san?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe when you've got a minute..." Yuriko felt her ears going hot, but she pushed on. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a little about Kenshin."

"Oh! Sure. I've just..." He waved vaguely toward the customers at the counter.

Yuriko bobbed her head. "Of course."

She closed her eyes and blew out another breath. That had been awkward. She'd never done something quite like that before. But she needed more information, and she had to seize her opportunities. For Kenshin's sake.

Distractedly, she tipped the tiny dish of slivered scallions and shredded ginger into her dipping sauce and whisked it up with the tips of her chopsticks. She had to think. There had to be some clues, something Kenshin had said or done, something that would point her to where she could find him. She just had to think.

Yuriko dunked some noodles in the dipping sauce and slurped them up, chewing quickly and gulping them down without tasting them. She had to think, but all she could think about was the way the wall had snapped down behind his eyes as she'd swung the bokken at him. She closed her eyes again, feeling suddenly sick. He wouldn't have dodged that. He could have, but he wouldn't. She could have killed him.

Yuriko shook herself and reached for her tea. There was no time for that now. She had to find him, and then she could apologize. She could apologize for everything. And she hadn't actually hit him with the bokken, after all.

_-- I'm not her --_

She hadn't hit him. She'd only thrown him away.

Yuriko sniffed back tears and gulped down another bite of soba. She had to get a grip on herself. Nomura had been back out in the dining area distributing fresh teapots, and now he was heading over toward her table. She cleared her throat and looked up.

"You wanted a word?" Nomura was saying.

"Please." Yuriko indicated the other chair and Nomura sat down on the edge of it, looking a bit nervous.

"So, ah," Yuriko started awkwardly. "About Kenshin. How long had he been staying here?"

"_Staying_ here?" Nomura laughed. "This is just a noodle shop!"

"Oh." Yuriko floundered. "I thought maybe he was renting a room upstairs or something."

"No, no; Himura-san was just washing dishes for me. Um," Nomura added, and went quiet, looking over Yuriko's shoulder as if he'd noticed something extremely interesting in the texture of the wall. He was blushing slightly.

"Nomura-san?"

"I, ah, I never actually did up the employment paperwork," he admitted guiltily. "It was just a few hours a week. I figured it wasn't fair not to pay him for it."

"...Oh." Yuriko gave the noodle shop owner an odd look. Why did he think she cared if he'd been bending the employment tax laws?

"...And he looked like he needed it," Nomura added quietly, dropping his eyes to the surface of the table.

"Oh?"

"Maekawa-san..." Nomura looked up at her, anxiety in his eyes. "Is he all right? Himura-san, I mean?" His voice was pitched softly, to keep the conversation from the other customers in the shop.

"I don't..."

"I mean..." He flicked his eyes sideways, nervously, then back to her face. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, but... it really seemed like there was something wrong with him."

Yuriko's lips parted in surprise. Nomura was honestly concerned.

He dropped his eyes to the table again, and the words came tumbling out, soft but rapid. "When he first came here he seemed all right. Hungry, but all right. It was... at least a month ago, maybe two. I don't really remember. He was broke but he was decent and polite, so I said sure he could wash dishes in exchange for dinner. He was a nice guy. I told him it was no problem if he came back. I figured he was a student or something, or maybe he'd moved to the city and then lost his job, you know?

"At first I chatted with him a bit in between customers, told him about the missus and the kids. But after a week or two he started going quiet, like he had something on his mind." Nomura paused for a moment, studying the grain of the table's wooden surface. "It only got worse. I mean, the last couple of weeks, he hardly said a word to anyone.

"Not that he wasn't polite!" he added hastily, holding up his hands. "He was always perfectly polite. He just kind of... withdrew. And he was starting to look really worn down, too, like he'd been under a lot of stress. Like he hadn't been sleeping or something.

"You asked if he was staying here," Nomura continued. "I... To be honest, I don't think he was staying anywhere. But somehow, I don't think it was that. I think it was something else. I think there was something really wrong, and I don't know what it was." He looked up at her, his face anxious. "It was like... despair."

A shiver went up Yuriko's spine as she looked into the eyes of this concerned stranger.

_-- Everyone's gone. Everyone. --_

"I thought, maybe he'd come to Tokyo to visit someone in the hospital or something. I thought..." Nomura bit his lip, lowering his eyes. "I thought, it looked like he was watching someone die."

She was remembering Kenshin's eyes, at the Akabeko three nights ago, in the dining room of the apartment house that first evening she'd brought him home.

_-- Everyone's gone. Except you. Kaoru love. --_

"I have to find him," she said, almost to herself.

"Please do that, Maekawa-san," Nomura replied softly. "Himura-san's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve to suffer like that. I don't think... I don't think he was handling it very well. Not alone like that."

Yuriko nodded, biting her lip, saying nothing. She didn't trust herself to speak just now, not when she could feel the tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.

Nomura got to his feet. "Well," he said. "I'll get you the cooking water from the soba." And he headed back across the small dining room toward the kitchen, nodding at a couple of the men in business suits as they held up a finger for their bills. Leaving Yuriko alone with her thoughts and the remains of her soba. 


	36. The sum of her memories

** 36. The sum of her memories **

_Himura-san's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve to suffer like that._

Yuriko lay on her futon, eyes open, gazing up into the darkness of her room. She knew she must have slept at some point but it felt like she'd done nothing more than doze a little all night long, tossing and turning in spite of the bone-weariness with which she'd dragged herself into bed several hours ago.

_I think there was something really wrong, and I don't know what it was._

The trip back from Shinjuku on the subway last night had been the longest she'd ever taken. She'd gotten off the train at every single stop, walking briskly up the corridors and out through the gates to post one of her flyers in the entrance of each station, then retracing her steps back down to the platform to catch the next train onward. Two stops before Ohtemachi she was down to her last sheet, the taped-up, marker-scrawled original, so she'd strode out into the noise and bright lights of Ginza to find a convenience store and run off another couple dozen copies.

It had taken her hours to work her way back to Yanaka. But there'd been nothing else she could think to do.

_Ken-nii's family will know how to find him._

That idea she'd tried already. She'd looked at Kenshin's list and she'd found the Himuras, she'd even gotten the address Kenshin had given them. The address of the noodle shop in Shinjuku. It had been a dead end.

The Himuras were family, but that didn't mean they knew where Kenshin was. That didn't mean he wasn't still alone.

_He's kinfolk, yeah, but he's still a stranger._

Coming out of the station and walking back through the dark streets of Yanaka she'd looked for him, hoping against hope that he'd be there, that he'd be waiting for her as he'd done before, that he'd be strolling through the neighborhood or just sitting in the park looking up at the stars.

He hadn't been, of course. Not after what had happened.

_I'm not her--_

She'd known that he wouldn't be there. Kenshin would never have imposed upon her, not after that. And that meant he was alone.

_I don't think he was handling it very well. Not alone like that._

He was alone. Again.

_I'm a rurouni, that I am. It's time for me to go wandering again._

Yuriko rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her face as if she could push the memory of last night's dream out of her head. But it wasn't just the dream. It had been more than forty-eight hours now, and he could be anywhere. Anywhere in the world. And no matter where he went, he would be alone.

_Everyone's gone. Everyone._

What had happened to them all? What could have happened that _everyone_ would be gone, all those familiar faces in that snapshot memory from Kyoto?

Kyoto, where she'd never been in her life?

_Except you. Kaoru love._

Yuriko had never been to Kyoto. But Kaoru had.

She thought again of the photograph in its manila envelope in her shoulder-bag, the souvenir from that train trip they'd taken to Yokohama, way back when. That picture of Kaoru.

_That's me. That's Kaoru._

It was one of those things that she felt she understood only when she didn't think about it directly. Because Kaoru was her. She was Kaoru. And yet, Kaoru was another person.

_Kaoru love--_

A person Kenshin loved. She remembered the feeling of intimacy, the sense of being so close to him that at times the gap between them had seemed almost to dissolve away.

They had been sweethearts, Yuriko realized. More than that: they had been lovers; they had been a couple. And then... something had happened. Somehow, Kenshin had wound up alone in this city. And somehow, Yuriko had wound up with Kaoru's memories.

With Kaoru's memories, and something more. Kenshin had recognized her, last week in Sae's apartment.

She hadn't understood then. She had assumed that the snippets of memory were her own, that Kaoru was just some half-forgotten alter ego. She had tried to piece it all in to the fabric of her own past and had become increasingly disturbed as it failed utterly to fit. And when Kenshin had laid the bokken in her hands, when her head had opened up and the memories had finally started to pour in, she had panicked.

_I'm not her--_

He had never intended to hurt her. He had given her that bokken because she had asked him.

_Remind me how we met?_

It hadn't been Kenshin's fault. None of this had been Kenshin's fault. But it was Kenshin who was now suffering for it.

_I have to find him._

He could be anywhere by now.

_Ken-nii's family will know how to find him._

Except his family was gone. Everyone was gone.

_Except you._

Kaoru would know how to find him, Yuriko thought. Kaoru had loved him.

Yuriko loved him too. Loving him wasn't enough.

Kaoru had _known_ him.

_Ken-nii's family will know..._

And Yuriko had wound up with Kaoru's memories. She blinked, sitting up on the futon. Kaoru was a part of her. If Kaoru could find him...

_I've never held a bokken in my life._

That was what had done it, Yuriko thought, leaning forward and gazing intently into the darkness of her room as if she could read the answers out of the air. The memories had been coming already that day, had been seeping into her consciousness with increasing speed all day long, but it had been the bokken that had turned her head inside out. If she could recapture that...

Yuriko flung aside the quilt and got to her feet, glancing at the face of her alarm clock as she reached for the light switch. It was half past three. An insane time to be awake. But she had a new lead now, and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep further until she'd played it out.

Not while Kenshin was out there alone in this night.

o-o-o

The length of pale wood lay there, silent, illuminated by the beam from the red emergency flashlight in Yuriko's hand. It hadn't been hard to find, back here among the bushes near the fence on the west side of the park; she remembered where she'd been standing when she'd thrown it away, remembered the sound of it crashing against the chain-link.

Yuriko reached down towards it and then hesitated, her fingers curling.

It had been the bokken that had turned her head inside out. The memories had flooded in and she'd panicked. She'd felt like she'd been losing herself. Like if she'd let Kaoru's memories fill up her soul, there would be no room left for Yuriko. Like she would cease to be herself.

Was she willing to risk that?

She looked down at the bokken, lying there abandoned, a slim pale shape among the dark leaves.

Her life was stable. Her life was safe. She had the administrative job at Meiji University, the room in the women's apartment house. She had her work friends, and her parents and Sae every second or third weekend. She had the marriage meetings that her mother had arranged.

What she didn't have was Kenshin. What she didn't have was the magic.

Yuriko reached out and laid her fingertips on the pale wood, half-flinching at the contact as if she expected an electric shock. There might have been a slight tingle; it might have been her imagination.

Carefully, carefully, she grasped the hilt of the bokken in her right hand and lifted it out of the leaves. Only now did it register to her that it had been hand-carved. She could see the marks on the wooden blade, could feel the slight irregularities in the handle under her fingers.

Kenshin had made this for her.

Yuriko stepped out of the bushes and onto the starlit lawn, switching off her flashlight and tucking it into her shoulder-bag lying on the grass beside her. She set her feet shoulder's-width apart, took a deep breath to fight down the nervous excitement, and brandished the bokken in front of her, bringing up her left hand to join the right on its hilt.

She waited. Nothing happened.

She was starting to feel faintly ridiculous, standing here posed with the bokken in her hands as if she were waiting for fairies to appear in the starlight. This was technically impossible, after all.

She readjusted her grip, twitching the tip of the bokken right into the line of her gaze.

Nothing was happening. Yuriko bit her lip, fighting anxiety. Was she trying too hard? It had worked before; all she'd had to do was touch the thing and it had turned her head inside out. Had it been something Kenshin had done? Had there been some extra magic that afternoon that had brought Kaoru's memories out? Or had it been her own state of mind?

She'd been trying to remember all week, to remember her time with Kenshin, to remember how they'd met. But it hadn't been her trying that had brought on the memories. They had just come. They had come, seemingly at random, triggered by little things. Little reminders, little resonances.

She raised the bokken, brought it down in a gentle arc.

Resonances. And Kenshin.

She couldn't make it happen, she realized. She had to _let_ it happen. If you wished too hard, the fairies wouldn't come.

Yuriko closed her eyes and thought about Kenshin. She thought about the way he'd looked waiting for her on the front steps Monday afternoon. She thought about his eyes, and his smile, and the thoughtful look that had been on his face as he'd sat and watched a bird fly across the roof at Sensouji Temple. She thought about the way he'd frowned at the subway ticket machine as if he hadn't the first clue what to do with it.

Her arms raised the bokken up above her head and swung it down in a precise arc, bringing it to a halt in front of her with the faintest hint of a jerk.

She thought about his face when he'd given her that ribbon. She thought about his face when she'd given the ribbon to him.

_Don't you forget and wander off, after you defeat Jin'e. I'd never forgive you for that._

The bokken swished down, another precise swing.

She thought about the time he'd said goodbye to her, the first time he'd really embraced her and the lights of the fireflies had gone all blurry through her tears. She thought about what Megumi had said to her, about what she'd said to Misao. And she thought about Kyoto.

_Let's go back to Tokyo together._

It was no longer just a snapshot. She could see it all now: Misao and the Oniwabanshuu; Yahiko and Hiko Seijuurou; Sanosuke carrying Kenshin back toward the ruined Aoi-ya and Shinomori Aoshi following grimly behind them. She could feel the emotions. And she could remember her own fight, Misao beside her and the bokken in her hands like an extension of her own body.

Yuriko slid her right foot forward and brought the bokken up over her head, slipping seamlessly into the first kata of Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu.

o-o-o

It had been on her fifteenth birthday that her father had challenged her to a match. It had been brief; only to the first touch. It had been almost ceremonial.

It had been a draw.

On that day her father had given her two great honors. He had made her shihondai: assistant master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu. And he had started calling her Kaoru, instead of Kaoru-chan.

Like an equal.

Of those two great honors, it was the second that she had treasured the most.

o-o-o

The tip of the bokken cut a final graceful arc through the air and came to rest, poised, as if its wielder would need only the slightest motion to restart the sequence of kata.

For a time she just stood there, eyes closed and her body as poised as the wood in her hands, feeling the blood rushing through her veins, feeling the sweat damp on her skin. It was a good sweat.

The kata, too, had been good. Not perfect, not all of them, not the first time through; and so she'd repeated them until they were right. Until they were the very best she could do.

She took another deep, controlled breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth. Her muscles felt weak and undeveloped, like they'd felt when she'd returned to training after the five-month hiatus during which she'd given birth to Kenji. She would be sore tomorrow. But that was all right.

She lowered the bokken and opened her eyes. All was stillness for a long moment. And then a sparrow gave voice to the dawn. 


	37. Time begins to flow once more

** 37. Time begins to flow once more **

The front wheel of the bike bumped up over the lip of the curb-cut and Yuriko squeezed the handbrakes, coasting to a halt alongside the iron railing that bounded the left edge of the path. She'd been riding for twenty minutes already, coming down the main street past Ueno and through the northern end of Asakusa, but it was here that this morning's search began in earnest. Here, on the west bank of the Sumidagawa.

Yuriko took a determined breath and stood for a moment, straddling the bike and casting a critical eye up and down the concrete banks of the river, tugging down the brim of her floppy pastel hat to block the glare of the early-morning sun. "Right," she said aloud, planted her right foot on its pedal, and pushed off again.

It had been just over an hour since she'd finished the kata, and her head was still buzzing, her mind still on fire with the wonder of it all.

Because it had worked. She had taken the bokken in her hands and somehow, impossibly, it had worked.

It had been the strangest thing she had ever felt. As she'd stood there in the park under the dawn-pink sky there had been two histories, two personalities, two lives within her single body, side by side and yet separate. Kaoru was her. She was Kaoru. And she was also Yuriko.

Her awareness had been swinging back and forth erratically, her sense of identity shifting in a way that now she had trouble even conceptualizing. She hadn't known how long it would last, that strange dual state, and so she'd clamped down on her wonder and forced her mind onto the question.

She hadn't even had to ask it. She hadn't had to explain the situation to herself or anything. The moment her thoughts had turned to Kenshin, the awareness had been there, as if the thoughts were coming from her own mind. And they were -- weren't they? -- even though they had that strange flavor of otherness to them, even though the knowledge hadn't been in Yuriko's head before. But there'd been no time to worry about that, and so she'd put aside the confused sense of wrongness and let the question be answered.

Where would Kenshin go?

Somewhere quiet, of course. Somewhere secluded. Somewhere away from people, where he could take the time to think things through. And where did Kenshin go when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, when he wanted just to sit and gaze out into the distance?

The knowledge had dropped full-formed into her head as if it had always been there. The roof of the dojo. The bamboo forest out on the edge of town. Or the riverbank.

The dojo was no longer hers, of course, and Tokyo had long since consumed the forests around its old boundaries. But the riverbank...

Another picture had appeared then, right behind her eyes, this time a memory of her own: a picture of Kenshin standing beside her in the darkness beneath the ornamental plums, looking out onto the glimmering surface of the Sumidagawa. Looking out at the water flowing steadily by, an unreadable emptiness in his eyes.

_What are you thinking about?_

_Nothing. The river. Time._

Time. She hadn't understood then. She'd misread his carefully blank expression.

_It does seem timeless, doesn't it._

She understood it now, though. She understood it, because now she knew who Kaoru was.

_Grandmother and grandfather before they were married--_

Somehow, Yuriko had wound up with Kaoru's memories. And somehow, Kenshin had wound up alone in this city.

_--Meiji 11._

She understood it, because now she could remember the day he'd disappeared.

Yuriko took a careful breath, concentrating on scanning the concrete riverbanks off to her left as she pedaled on. Along with Kaoru's memories she'd inherited the emotional reactions as well, and there was a lot there that she wasn't yet ready to deal with. But she'd also inherited a kind of strength, an unbreakable determination, an iron will that let her put aside those things, when before today they would have turned Yuriko into a puddle of grief.

She had something more important to do right now, something she needed to do right. And she could also remember how it had felt the first time she'd told him out loud.

_But I want to stay with you forever._

Nothing in Yuriko's own past would have allowed her to walk calmly to the convenience store and buy a map of the greater Tokyo metropolitan area from the night clerk; to walk back home to the apartment house and eat breakfast -- eat breakfast! -- before collecting her hat for the ride and leaving an apologetic note telling her housemate Mei that she'd be taking the bicycle for the day. Before today, she almost certainly would've jumped on the bike and rode off straight away, only to wind up lost and hungry by midmorning. Now, though, she knew she'd need a map to make her search methodical, and she knew she had to eat or else she'd get fatigued too quickly.

She'd been a little worried about the bike at first. It was an old clunker, a cheap steel-framed three-speed that she'd bought secondhand when she'd first moved up to Tokyo. She'd ridden it a little during the first few months, mostly just around Yanaka, but the apartment house was close enough to the shops that it was just as easy to walk, and even with the chain guard and internal hub gears she didn't like riding in her work clothes. And so the bike had sat in the shed gathering rust, the tires slowly going flat. It would've been a disaster if it hadn't been for Mei. A year ago Yuriko had heard the younger woman talking about looking for a cheap bike for her commute to the conservatory down on the back side of Ueno Park and had offered the use of her own. Clearly, Mei's talents extended beyond the violin. The bike rode like a breeze.

She'd stuffed her shoulder-bag into the bike's battered metal basket, but the bokken had been another matter. She hadn't dared to leave it behind, not when she didn't know how long her strange dual awareness would last. She needed Kaoru's insights, and indeed after a few minutes on the bike she was feeling almost normal again. The bokken was her magic wand.

Normally she would've slid it through the ties of her hakama and been done with it, but her strange modern costume was unsuited to the wearing of a sword. She'd almost laughed a little then, standing in the shed beside her bike, remembering Kenshin's long-suffering sigh when she'd put him into the exact same situation a week ago.

She'd had no suitcase this time to stuff the bokken into; it was too long to stick into her bike basket and she couldn't wear it at her waist. But she could always sling it across her back. And that was how Yuriko now rode alongside the Sumidagawa, with a floppy hat on her head and a bokken slung across her back, tied end to end with an indigo silk ribbon. It had seemed appropriate. And it was that or spend at least half an hour searching the apartment house for a ball of twine.

Indeed, the strange duality had faded as she'd pedaled along, as she'd navigated her way down through Ueno, as she'd stopped at a corner vending machine to buy a bottle of iced green tea. As she'd done ordinary things, modern things. It was the same as it had been on the subway on Thursday morning, when thoughts of the upcoming workday had turned her mind away from the memories of her abortive fight against Gohei. This time, though, she knew what was happening, and the comforting curve of the bokken across her back was all the reassurance she needed.

Yuriko braked to a halt and hopped off the bike to carry it down the short flight of steps, then swung her leg back over the frame and pedaled on, tires purring on the pebble-studded concrete. She'd reached the very heart of Asakusa, the romantic plum-lined walkway where she'd taken Kenshin after their dinner out four nights ago. She was probably violating all sorts of city codes by biking along here -- the bike path had swung away from the river here to make space for the trees and benches -- but at six in the morning it scarcely mattered.

She swayed right to swing the bike around one of the ornamental lamp-posts and pedaled on, eyes flicking back and forth between the walkway ahead and the riverbank beyond the concrete barrier. She didn't actually expect to find Kenshin along the Sumidagawa, not here, not where the banks were made of concrete and the bustle of the city was mere yards away. No; he would want somewhere quiet, somewhere secluded. He would want grass and open water under a broad blue sky. Much more likely that she'd find him along the Arakawa to the east.

But she was being methodical; she would start at the Arakawa's southern end and work her way upriver, and to do that she needed to ride south anyway. It might as well be along the Sumidagawa. Her plan was to continue down towards the docklands and then cut over along one of the canals. And if she didn't find him along the Arakawa... Well, there was still the Tamagawa to the south, and the Nakagawa, and the Edogawa, and all the dozens of smaller tributaries and canals that laced the city.

It was going to be a long day, wasn't it.

And her worst fear was that he wouldn't be on the riverbank at all, that he would have gone wandering again. It was the third day already; there might have been enough time by now for him to think things through. Or he might have just pointed his feet in a random direction and walked, too numb still to even be able to sit down and think. If he'd gone wandering, her search would take much longer. And every day it took, he'd be out there, alone.

_I thought, it looked like he was watching someone die._

Those two months alone in Tokyo had not been easy for him. He'd been too thin, too tired, too shell-shocked, in far worse shape than he'd been the first time she'd met him, and that time he'd been wandering for ten years.

Maybe it got better with time. Or maybe it just became more bearable.

Still, amazingly, she was no longer afraid for him. Concerned, yes, but not afraid. Because she knew now that Kenshin had been through worse than this, and had come out with his life and his sanity intact -- though sometimes by a slimmer margin than she would have liked. He would survive until she could find him.

And this time, she thought wryly as she braked again to a halt, at least there was no one out there who wanted to kill him. Yuriko hopped down off the bike and hefted it up the steps at the southern end of the pedestrian walkway, straining under the combined weight of its steel frame and her shoulder-bag in its basket. She leaned a forearm on its seat and stood for a little while, catching her breath, then pulled the bottle of iced green tea out of her bag and took a swig. It had hardly cooled off at all overnight, and the sun was getting higher -- all the more reason to find Kenshin as soon as she could. She tucked the plastic bottle back in her bag and remounted the bike, pushing off down the path and onwards.

Her worst fear was that he would have gone wandering again. But somehow, she just didn't think he would. Somehow, she couldn't picture him doing anything right now but sitting on the riverbank. Before, he had pulled himself together enough to reconstruct Kenji's entire family tree, enough to systematically track down all those descendants, one by one. And now, even though she'd screamed at him that she wasn't Kaoru, even though she'd panicked and run away from him, would he really have gone wandering again, knowing that she was alive in this world? Because all this time, all these past two months, he had been doing just one thing.

_Looking for you. But I didn't know it until I found you, that I didn't._

o-o-o

Ozaki Motoko was really beginning to wish that the community center would install air conditioning. It was fine if she sweated in her gi -- that's what it was for, and after an hour's hard workout she expected nothing less -- but to have her street clothes go all sweaty mere minutes after changing back into them was a bit much.

Showers would be nice, too, she thought as she walked back through the center of Yanaka under the midmorning sun. Air conditioning and showers. And some nice cold drinks. There was the vending machine just outside the center's door, but the milky iced coffee it sold wasn't particularly healthy and Motoko found it hard to justify the expense. A nice cold bottle of orange juice from the convenience store, on the other hand... Even on a student's budget, she could spare a hundred and fifty yen once in a while for a nutritious treat like that. Motoko hitched her gym bag up higher on her shoulder and turned, reaching out to pull open the glass door. That was when she saw the flyer.

_HAVE YOU SEEN HIMURA KENSHIN?_

For a long moment she just stood there, staring, one arm outstretched half way to the door handle.

She remembered yesterday afternoon, watching Yuriko rush out the door.

She remembered Friday night, meeting Yuriko's fashion-conscious coworker on the steps of the apartment house.

_I think she just broke up with her boyfriend._

Ozaki Motoko's eyes narrowed. Then she reached up and carefully untaped the flyer from the convenience store window.

o-o-o

There were two routes that Takizawa Sae could take from her favorite bakery back to her apartment. There was the direct route, down Wakamiya-dori and past the train station, but even on a lazy Sunday afternoon that main street was a bit too busy for her liking. Much more pleasant was the back route, just a couple of blocks west toward the river but far more peaceful. It was only an added bonus that the back route took her past the yard of her aunt and uncle's garden shop.

When Sae had been younger she would stop into the shop practically every afternoon to hang out with Yuriko. Her older cousin had always spent most of her time there after school, doing her homework at a small potting bench in the back when the weather was nice or sitting inside next to the orchids when it rained. Even after Yuriko had gotten her current job and moved away to Tokyo the habit had stuck with Sae, and now she would linger a little near the back gate, glancing in at the pretty green of the ferns or stopping to smell the white roses that her uncle kept up against the wrought-iron fence.

The shop was closed on Sundays, but Sae knew that her uncle would usually come in anyway when the weather was hot, just for a little while to make sure the plants had enough water. And indeed, as she strolled down the familiar street this afternoon with a fresh loaf of bread under one arm, she spotted him there under the shade-netting with a hose in his hands, watering the maple saplings.

"Uncle Takeshi! How're the plants?" She waved as he looked round and he returned her smile, shutting off the valve in the hose's sprayer-head and starting over toward the gate.

"Hi, Sae-chan." He came over past the ferns and unlatched the gate as she drew level. "You're up early for a weekend."

Sae bristled. "No I'm not!" she retorted. "It's three already!" She'd acquired a reputation for sleeping in late during her high-school and college years, but she'd never been this bad, and her uncle should know that. He did know it, too; there was a distinctly mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he nodded pleasantly in reply.

"Actually I was wondering," Sae continued, "did you ever hear from Yuriko last night? She was going to call me back but she must've forgotten."

Takeshi blinked, and something in his face changed.

"From Yuriko?" he said. "No. Why? What was she...?"

"Well, she'd finally gotten Himura-san's address and she was going to go see him. You know about all that, right?" He must know about it, Sae thought; Yuriko always told her parents everything. "They'd had some kind of, I don't know, misunderstanding or something and she was trying to track him down again. I mean, I'm sure it'll turn out all right, but I wanted to hear..."

Sae trailed off. Takeshi was staring at her.

"What?" Sae said.

"Sae-chan..." His face had gone pale, almost gray.

"What? What is it?"

Takeshi hesitated for a moment, as if trying to decide how much he should tell her. "You'd better come over to the house for a little while," he said at last. 


	38. A long awaited meeting

** 38. A long-awaited meeting **

_Kenshin._

Yuriko grabbed her brakes so hard they squealed for a moment, then let them go and mashed down on the pedals. She'd come around a curve in the road above the embankment and seen him, a small figure sitting on the grassy riverbank below, the afternoon sun blazing off his long red hair. For a moment she hadn't believed her eyes.

_Kenshin!_

She sprinted the last fifty yards, ignoring the protest of her tired knees and quadriceps, ignoring the ache in her handlebar-battered hands. She glanced quickly over her right shoulder for traffic and then veered across the road, screeching to a halt on the riverward edge. She grabbed her bike by the crossbar and practically threw it over the corrugated steel crash barrier, dumping it down onto its side in the weeds and vaulting over after it. Her heart was racing, and not just from the final burst of pedaling.

"Kenshin!"

She hurled herself forward, sprinting down the steep embankment, yanking down on the indigo ribbon across her chest to keep the bokken from bashing against the back of her thigh. She skidded and slid on the tufty unmowed grass, her run turning into a series of downward leaps until she reached the level ground. She stumbled, recovered, raced forward again. He was sitting half way between the bottom of the embankment and the water's edge, sitting unmoving with his head bowed.

She slowed as she approached him, concern joining the mix of emotions roiling inside her. He still hadn't looked up, still hadn't given any indication that he'd heard her.

She stopped an arm's-length away, heart pounding in her ears, somehow reluctant to touch him. He still hadn't moved. Was he asleep?

"Kenshin?"

o-o-o

The sound seeped sluggishly into Kenshin's awareness. It was a word, a name, his own name.

_Kenshin?_

For a moment he could have been sitting on the engawa of the Kamiya house, leaning comfortably against one of the support posts, dozing in the summer breeze. For a moment the voice could have been hers, come to wake him, come to tell him about something Kenji had done or to ask him about starting dinner. But even though the ki blazing beside him was so familiar as to break his heart, the voice had not been Kaoru's.

There'd been a tremor in it, as if of fear.

Kenshin's eyes sprang open. He was sitting on the riverbank -- yes, still on the riverbank where he'd sat down at the end of the night, unable to walk any further until he'd thought things through. He'd meant to get up, meant to go wandering again; in a little while he would have done it, but it kept coming back to him that she was alive in this world and now the sunlight was so heavy he could barely move and his head hurt like hell and she was standing right beside him.

She was standing right beside him.

"Yuriko-dono!" he yelped, and leapt to his feet.

He staggered immediately, his joints protesting painfully -- how long had he been sitting here? Kaoru would have been furious -- and caught himself on the hilt of his sakabatou to keep from falling. It was her. She was here. She absolutely should not have been here.

_I'm not her--_

He couldn't help looking at her, couldn't help staring into her blue, blue eyes. Because they were Kaoru's eyes. Kaoru's eyes should not be so full of unhappiness.

This was his fault. He tore his gaze away and threw himself down onto his knees on the grass in front of her, bowing his head low.

o-o-o

Yuriko's first thought had been that she'd startled him, but that was before he'd said her name.

_Yuriko-dono._

The honorific hit her like a kick to the stomach and suddenly it was as if the chasm from her dream were right there in the grass between them, she on one side, Kenshin on the other. He had called her Kaoru-dono for so long, keeping her at arm's length, keeping her on a pedestal above him. To bridge that gap, to break down that barrier, it had taken--

No; there was no time for that now. She had to do something, say something, do whatever it was that she'd been going to do to make it all right again. Because he'd looked awful, pallid and exhausted and coated in a layer of dust and dried sweat and now he was kneeling in front of her and she couldn't see his eyes.

"Yuriko-dono," he was saying again. "For everything that I have done to you, I offer you my most sincere apology, that I do. If there is any way to make amends-- please-- allow me to do so."

Yuriko opened her mouth to say something, anything, but there were no words in her mind and her throat was too tight anyway. She stared at him, willing him to look up, willing him to smile at her and tell her it was all right. But she couldn't see his eyes; all she could see was his lanky red hair and one sunburned forearm propping him up on the grass.

Why couldn't she say anything? Why couldn't she move? Finding him was supposed to have been the hard part, and it was she who should be making amends, not Kenshin. And now he was kneeling before her like a fairytale knight offering her his fealty-- or offering her his life.

This wasn't real. This couldn't be real; this was far too magical to be real, and magic didn't happen in the real world. In the real world she was Maekawa Yuriko with the boring life and the boring administrative job, singing karaoke with friends she didn't really know and going to marriage meetings with men she had no interest in.

She had to do something. She had to say something, but her mouth was dry and her mind blank, butterflies fluttering in her stomach like a schoolgirl with a secret crush.

She'd never had a boyfriend. She'd never even asked anyone out.

Oh, god, she was going to lose him. If she didn't do something now she was going to lose him again. She would go back to her safe, stable life and he would go on wandering, as if none of this had ever happened.

Terror welled up inside her, terror and the old aching loneliness. It was she who had thrown him away. And now... now she couldn't even...

She saw him flinch before she even realized she'd taken a step backward.

"I'm sorry," he went on, softly. His voice seemed hoarse. "You deserve your own life. I shouldn't have tried to..."

Tried to...? Yuriko clenched her teeth against the rising panic. Tried to do what? To bring Kaoru back? Her heart was racing, her mind tumbling. She still couldn't move. She still couldn't say anything.

She couldn't handle this. She wanted to close her eyes, to make it all disappear. To make it all end. But if she did that--

"...to make you be her," Kenshin breathed, so softly that Yuriko almost didn't hear.

To be her. To be Kaoru.

_-- I'm not her --_

But she was. She was Kaoru, and Kaoru was her, a part of her.

Kaoru would be able to handle this.

Yuriko was suddenly intensely aware of the curve of the bokken across her back.

_-- If you want Ken-san to keep coming home, from now on you'll have to be much stronger --_

Kaoru was stronger. Certainly strong enough for this.

Yuriko reached up above her right shoulder and touched the hilt of the bokken, tentatively, feeling its new-cut roughness.

_Kenshin made this--_

Impulsively, before she could change her mind, she grasped the wood in one hand and the ribbon in the other, pulling it quickly over her head and gripping the center of its gently curving length tight in both hands. Then she closed her eyes, letting the memories come, letting the warmth and the heartache and the years of joy and pain wash through her, letting Kaoru fill up her mind.

When she opened her eyes they were wet, but she was no longer afraid.

"Kenshin," she said calmly. "A long time ago I told you that I wanted to stay with you forever."

She saw the shock go through him. Her heart was fluttering, a part of her still swinging between panic and awe in the background, but she knew now exactly where she was going. She took a deep breath and knelt down on the grass, directly in front of him, settling the bokken beside her.

"Well, forever isn't over yet." She reached out and lifted his chin with her fingertips, gently, until she could see his eyes at last. They were as wide as saucers. "Come home with me, Kenshin love."

He stared at her for a long moment, frozen, panic and awe mixed in his own eyes.

"Kaoru...?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said firmly.

He blinked, tensed, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue and seeming to draw in on himself. His eyes had gotten even bigger.

"What about Yuriko-dono?" he breathed.

"What--?" she started, confused. Why should his eyes be tinged now with horror? Why should he look like he wanted to die from guilt? Why, unless he thought--

_You deserve your own life._

"Oh, Kenshin," she said gently, shaking her head. "This _is_ me. This _is_ my own life. This has always been me." She tilted her head to one side, looking at him with a kind of pity. "I just remember it all now, that's all."

She saw the wall come down behind his eyes, the emotion evaporating from his face as if it had never been there. When he spoke, his voice was carefully flat.

"Yuriko-dono should not give up her self for my sake, that she should not."

Yuriko stared at him. Hadn't she made it clear? Didn't he know her well enough to understand that she would never harm herself for his sake, because he'd only blame himself and be miserable?

She could explain this gently. She could try to persuade him that she wasn't sacrificing herself for him, that this was really what she wanted, that this was no sacrifice at all. But there was another approach, a much more straightforward approach.

"Idiot!" she yelled, and shoved him. Hard.

"Oro-!" he exclaimed, the surprise on his face as he sprawled over onto his side almost enough to make her laugh.

"This is what _I_ want! This is _me!_ Kaoru _and_ Yuriko!" She reached out and hauled him up into a sitting position again. "I remember now, and I'm not going back. I'm still the same person, Kenshin." Her voice had softened, had become more gentle. "I'm still Yuriko, the only difference is I can _see_ now."

She leaned in towards him, touching his cheek gently with her right hand. "Kenshin. All my life--" This was confusing; grammar wasn't made to talk about things like this. "All-- all Yuriko's life, I felt like I was waiting for something. Looking for something, and not knowing what it was. Because you weren't there. I'm not going back to that, Kenshin. I made my decision already."

"Kaoru..." he started again, staring at her, just staring at her as if he had no idea what to say.

"Marry me?" she added. "Again, I mean."

Kenshin's eyes went wide. Very wide. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and blushed scarlet.

Yuriko laughed and shoved him again, gently. "It's a new era, silly," she said. "Women are allowed to ask now. And considering how long it took you the last time..."

"K-Kaoru..."

"Well? Answer me."

He smiled at her, finally, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Then he reached out and gently touched her cheek.

"It seems there was a reason why I couldn't go wandering again." 


	39. Meanwhile

** 39. Meanwhile **

Takizawa Sae watched as her uncle dialed the number on the old land-line telephone, watched as he stood listening to the rings. From where she was sitting on the edge of the wooden dining-room chair beside her aunt she could hear only the silence that filled the room.

Slowly, numbly, Takeshi lowered the handset from his ear and laid it back onto its cradle. He stood there, beside the small table by the window, one hand still resting on the phone. Sae had not been able to hear the rings, but it was clear that there'd been no answer.

This was wrong, Sae thought. It was so wrong that it was frightening her. Her aunt and uncle were not supposed to be this way, not silent and sick-eyed and pale with fear. She had never seen them this way, never. They had always been cheery, had always been confidently parental, had always been ready to soothe the stresses of childhood. A scraped knee, a broken friendship, a failed exam, a rejected job application-- they'd always been there with a kind word and a smile, with a gentle tease and a mischievous twinkle in the eye.

Their lives had always seemed stable, had always seemed content and safe. Even when the recession had hit during Sae's junior year in high-school and her dad had been furloughed from his job at the commercial real-estate firm, they'd been there with a kind word and a helping hand. Sure, the garden shop had lost some business too, but it was a freehold inherited from her grandparents along with the house, and while it had never been particularly profitable it had always been enough.

That was why it was so terrifying to see them like this. It had scared her, Takeshi's grim silence as he'd driven her back to the house in his little green pick-up truck. It had scared her, the way Yoko's smile of greeting had slipped away the moment she'd seen her husband's face, like all of a sudden she'd been gazing into the abyss. It had scared her the way they'd both ignored her for the first couple of minutes, as Takeshi related what she'd so innocently told him over the pretty green ferns.

Then they had taken her into the dining room, sat her down at the table, and told her everything.

"No answer," Takeshi said, unnecessarily.

Sae swallowed. This had to be wrong. This couldn't possibly be right. She'd seen Yuriko's face, a week ago in her apartment. She'd seen Kenshin's face too, the shock and the awe, the way the tears had started almost as soon as Yuriko had walked in the door. And she'd heard the emotion in Yuriko's voice, yesterday on the phone.

_Tell him I'm sorry, and that I love him._

This had to be wrong. She'd met Kenshin; she'd spoken to him. Sure, he was a little strange, a little outside the norm with his scar and his sword, dressing and talking like he'd stepped out of an old-time samurai movie, but he had The Hair and Yuriko loved him.

Yuriko loved him.

Sae had never seen Yuriko so emotional. The girl had never had a boyfriend, had never even had a serious crush before. Sae would have known. Yuriko would have told her about something like that. And how much more wonderful to fall in love on her own than to have to keep going to one marriage meeting after another, never quite finding the right man? How much more wonderful, too, to fall in love with someone like Kenshin? He'd been so sweet, so kind, so _natural_. Sae had met Kenshin. She had spoken to him. She would've known if something had been amiss. Wouldn't she?

Yuriko's parents had met Kenshin, too. They hadn't felt that anything was amiss either, not until they'd found the photograph.

Sae had wanted to see the photograph. It was too bad they'd mailed it off already to Yuriko.

"I'm going up to Tokyo to find her," Takeshi was saying.

This had to be wrong. Yuriko couldn't be in danger, not from Kenshin, never from Kenshin. It meant nothing that she hadn't picked up her phone; maybe she was in the bath, or in the library with her phone silenced, or even just in a different room from that scruffy-looking maroon-and-cream shoulder-bag of hers.

"Call the apartment house," Sae blurted.

"The apartment house?" It was Yoko who spoke, her eyebrows twitching upward.

"Yeah, the apartment house. Her landlady's line." They'd see, Sae thought desperately. This had to be wrong; everything had to be all right. "I've got the number if you don't. Yuriko gave it to me. It's right here, programmed into my phone."

o-o-o

Takamori Chiyoko considered Sunday to be her day off. Not that she didn't enjoy the day-to-day business of running the apartment house; she liked nothing better than looking after her girls, and she even found the household chores enjoyable in a meditative kind of way. But she firmly believed that everyone needed some down-time, and anyway, what was the point of being grown up if you couldn't act childish once in a while?

So Sunday was her day, her opportunity to sleep in a little late, to take a nice long bath, to go to the park and feed the sparrows, to kick back and read a book, to go out shopping if she felt like it. On this particular Sunday she'd decided that she needed to go to the mall. It had been ages since she'd bought any clothes, and her favorite summer blouses were starting to fray a little around the cuffs. The mall stayed open late, too, even on Sundays, so it didn't matter that the afternoon was already wearing on. Today's book had been a particularly good one.

And so Takamori had just gathered up her things and slid open her office door to go out when her phone rang.

o-o-o

Ozaki Motoko had just been passing by, had just been heading back up the hall from the bathroom. She had peripherally noticed that Takamori's office door was open, had peripherally noticed the older woman's phone ring.

"Hello, Yanaka Grand Hotel Women's Apartment House. Takamori speaking."

It was no business of Motoko's, so she'd walked right past the open office door, down the hall toward the foyer.

"Oh hello! Yuriko's father, eh? How nice!"

Motoko stopped in her tracks. _Yuriko._

"Let me just say how much of a delight it is having your daughter as a tenant," Takamori was saying.

Motoko clenched her hands, drawing in a breath. It had been like this all afternoon. She had been sitting at the dinner table, trying to work on her math homework, but every time she started in on a problem she would remember the flyer lying on her desk upstairs and her concentration would go out the window.

_HAVE YOU SEEN HIMURA KENSHIN?_

It made her angry. It made her _furious_. How dare Yuriko go looking for that man after Motoko had risked her own safety driving him out? She'd gone searching for the other woman as soon as she'd gotten back home from the gym, had kept an ear out every time the front door had opened, had checked Yuriko's room three times now in case she'd somehow missed her return. And now someone -- Yuriko's father -- another _man,_ god damn it -- was on the phone with Takamori. Motoko sidled back down the hall, stockinged feet silent on the polished wood.

"She is _such_ a sweet girl," Takamori was saying, "and you know, I think she's lived here the longest of any--"

Takamori paused, listening to something on the other end of the line. Distantly, Motoko heard the front door close, heard the muffled thuds of someone kicking off her shoes. Someone was coming across the foyer, humming a jaunty little tune and heading this way. Motoko stepped away from the wall, ready to pretend that she was walking down the hallway herself. The lounge was just across from Takamori's office; if she stepped in there--

"At home?" Takamori said. "I'm not sure."

Motoko paused, puzzled, her hand on the sliding door to the lounge. Yuriko's father had called Takamori to ask if Yuriko was home?

"I can take a look if you like. Hold on for a minute, all right, Maekawa-san?"

Motoko had no more time to ponder the situation, because at that moment Takamori stepped out of her office and Hana bopped into the hallway.

"Oh, hello, Hana dear," Takamori said. "You wouldn't happen to know if Yuriko is around, would you?"

"Yu-chan? I dunno," Hana replied. "I just got back from Ueno. _Man,_ is it _hot_ out there!" She mock-panted, fanning herself with one hand.

Then why don't you take off that stupid haori, Motoko thought.

Takamori turned toward her. "What about you, Motoko dear?"

Motoko bristled. She'd never given Takamori permission to call her 'dear.' She'd never given anyone permission to call her 'dear.' It wasn't just that it bothered her personally: it was a flaw in the wider culture, a pattern of address that infantilized women, that made them see themselves as 'dear girls' instead of as full-fledged members of society. But Takamori called all her tenants 'dear,' and the lodgings here had been far too good a deal for Motoko to jeopardize by alienating her landlady.

"No," she said coldly. "She's out. I just looked."

"Ah, that's too bad, dear," Takamori burbled, smiling back at her sunnily from behind her thick lenses. "Her father's on the phone, you know. I'll just get back to him, eh?" She ducked back into her office.

Motoko sighed, annoyed, and leaned one shoulder against the wall. She should just go back to the dining room and get on with her math homework. She didn't know why she was listening in on this phone conversation anyway. Hana wasn't listening in; Hana had slid open the door to the lounge and strolled in there, grabbing a magazine off the stack by the television and plopping herself down on one of the floor cushions. If Motoko just continued to stand here, her eavesdropping would soon become obvious.

"Hello, Maekawa-san?" Takamori was saying. "Yuriko appears to be out at the moment, the dear girl."

Motoko rolled her eyes and hoisted herself up off the wall, turning to head back out through the foyer.

"The last time I saw her?"

Motoko blinked. She'd stopped again.

"Gosh, it's been days. She's been out a lot, you know?"

Motoko suddenly understood why she'd been listening, why the mention of Yuriko's name had caught her attention. Why she'd been reluctant to just walk away.

"Last I saw her must've been, gosh, breakfast a few days ago. Mid-week or so; mm, Wednesday maybe? Or Thursday? No, I think it was Wednesday..."

It was because it wasn't just her own anger. It was because Yuriko could be in danger.

_I think she just broke up with her boyfriend--_

This was one of the most dangerous situations a woman could be in. After the first break-up, after the first fight, to go looking for him again...

_Kenshin, please come home. I miss you--_

Motoko's eyebrows tilted with anxiety. Yuriko could be in danger. Yuriko could be in danger right now, and here she was doing nothing.

_I'll look out for her--_

"Hang on a minute, Maekawa-san, and I'll ask the girls. One of them might have seen her around more recently." Takamori stuck her head out of her office door again, looking across the hall into the lounge. "Hana dear?"

"Yeah?" Hana popped out through the doorway, the tacky turquoise haori still flapping around her body.

"Oh, there you are, dear. If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you saw Yuriko?"

"Wednesday night. She'd just missed the Shinsengumi rerun." Hana pouted and gestured back behind her into the lounge.

"Ah, that's too bad, dear. Motoko dear? How about you?"

Motoko stepped forward to join the other two, her eyes no longer icy. "Yesterday afternoon," she said. "She was just going out."

"Oh!" Takamori raised her eyebrows and gave Motoko a big smile. "Thank you, Motoko dear!" Then she stepped back into her office.

Motoko suppressed an exasperated sigh. She could only bear the 'dear' for so long.

"Hello, Maekawa-san? One of my other girls saw her yesterday afternoon."

Hana was heading back into the lounge with her magazine. Motoko followed her and bent down in front of the stack of magazines, flipping through the glossy covers and looking for something that wasn't ninety percent makeup ads.

"No, not since then," Takamori was saying. Her voice carried clearly through the two open doors. There was a brief pause, then she spoke again. "Actually, Maekawa-san, you know I think Yuriko has one of those cellular phones, you know what I mean? One of those mobiles? Even if she's out--" There was another pause. "Oh, I see. She wasn't answering, eh?"

_She wasn't answering--_

Motoko looked up, a thrill of danger and a sudden aggression colliding inside her. This was it. Here was her chance to help. Here was her chance to protect someone, to finally be a hero -- because it was clear now that Yuriko was in danger.

And it was more than just that. She'd finally have the chance to finish what she'd started, four days ago in Kenshin's borrowed room.

"Ask her to call you, eh?" Takamori was saying. "Sure, no problem. But you know, Maekawa-san, she should be back this evening for sure. I mean, the girls always have their house dinner on Sundays -- right around seven, just like clockwork -- and if Yuriko was going to miss it then I'm just sure she'd let someone know. Otherwise they'd all be waiting for her, you know? Hang on a second, all right?"

Takamori stuck her head into the lounge again. "Hana dear? Yuriko hasn't said anything about not coming to the house dinner tonight, has she?"

"No. Why?"

"Ah, thanks dear." Takamori disappeared again through the doorway. "Hello, Maekawa-san?" Another pause. "Yuriko should be here this evening for the house dinner. Mm-hmm? Sure. I'll ask her to call you when I see her. But I was just about to go out shopping for a bit, you know, so I'll make sure my other girls know, all right? All right. Take care now, Maekawa-san. Nice to talk to you. Bye-bye."

Takamori popped her head around the doorframe again. "Hana dear? Motoko dear? That was just Yuriko's father on the phone. He's been trying to get ahold of her. So when she shows up for the dinner, could you make sure to ask her to call him? I'm going to be out at the mall for a bit and I'm not sure when I'll get back, all right?"

"Sure," said Hana.

Motoko gave the older woman a silent nod.

"Thanks, dears. See you later, eh?"

"See ya, Takamori-san," Hana said, without looking up from her magazine.

Motoko watched the older woman go, then turned a speculative gaze on Hana. The girl was still obliviously flipping through her magazine. Motoko narrowed her eyes, considering.

Hana embodied all the worst stereotypes of the ditzy, air-headed girl -- not woman, but _girl,_ with her cutoff denim shorts and her hot pink baby-tee under that ridiculous polyester haori. And yet she'd been admitted with top honors to the best university in Japan, while Motoko herself struggled along in cram school.

_I'll look out for her--_

Motoko had full confidence in her own abilities. Still... if Yuriko was truly in danger, it would be useful to have an ally.

"Hana-san..." Motoko began. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about." 


	40. Kenshin ecstatic

** 40. Kenshin ecstatic **

Everything was wonderful. More than wonderful: everything was perfect, because she was here.

_Kaoru._

Kenshin hoped fervently that this wasn't a dream. But he was holding what seemed to be a coherent conversation with her, and besides, he still had a splitting headache. That never happened in his dreams.

"I still can't cook," she was saying as they walked up the riverside road, Yuriko wheeling her bicycle along beside her.

"No worries," he replied lightly. "I'll do it if you want, that I will." He was still smiling uncontrollably. This had to be one of the best days of his life.

"And I'm horribly out of shape."

"You'll be fine, Kaoru love." His voice was still a bit scratchy. It felt like he'd swallowed a handful of sand. He cleared his throat and swallowed dryly, wondering idly where he could find a drinking fountain.

"And I have no idea what's happened to the dojo."

"It's... gone." He winced. "I looked, that I did."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

Kenshin considered for a moment what a single sakabatou could have done against a firestorm and decided that she was probably right, that it probably wasn't his fault. Nevertheless, he thought, he still ought to have been there.

"Hey," Yuriko scolded. "Quit being glum. You're supposed to be _happy!_" On the last word she darted forward and grabbed him with both hands, fingers crooked and wriggling against his ribs.

Kenshin shrieked and leapt back, but the mood was broken. "You-- you _planned_ that, that you did!" he spluttered once he'd stopped laughing, stopped coughing, and caught his breath again. The bike was standing upright. She must have flipped the kick-stand down while he wasn't paying attention.

"Heh," Yuriko replied, grinning smugly.

Kenshin shook his head wonderingly as they continued onward past a cluster of corrugated steel warehouses, the bicycle ticking along beside Yuriko. She had certainly recovered Kaoru's memories. Even the ones he might have preferred her to have forgotten. It had been six months into their marriage when Kaoru had discovered his secret weakness. He was lucky that she hadn't overused that knowledge.

He smiled to himself. Of course she hadn't. Kaoru was bold but kind. And now everything was perfect, because she was here.

_Marry me? Again, I mean._

He was grinning again. He'd been smiling so much that his face hurt. It didn't matter that the weight of the sunlight against his chest was making it hard to breathe. He glanced over at Yuriko, raising his eyes slightly to look at her face. He still wasn't used to the fact that she was a good four inches taller than him now. He'd gone to lay a hand on her shoulder as they'd gotten up to leave the riverbank and had wound up just patting her on the back.

'I'll walk you home,' he'd said to her, after she'd proposed to him. It was a long way back to her apartment house, and the afternoon was already running on. But he'd forgotten again about the subway system: apparently it stretched even all the way out here, out to the city's farthest bounds.

They'd climbed the embankment back up to where she'd left her bike and she'd fished a map out of her cream-and-maroon shoulder-bag.

'Kita-akabane,' she'd said after giving the map a few moments' examination. She'd looked up at him then and said something about having to change trains but it hadn't mattered, because again, even then, the sight of her eyes had made his breath catch and his heart race.

"Kenshin?"

He startled and looked up at her.

"This way," she said.

"Ah. Right." He'd been looking at his feet and hadn't noticed the intersection. He hurried to catch up with her, turning south away from the course of the river.

They'd been following the river road for about half a mile already; from this turning it should only be another ten, fifteen minutes to the station. Yuriko had shown him the roads on her map. This one curved a little, passing between blocks of houses and up a slight rise as it ran away from the river.

"We'll have to find our own apartment," Yuriko said suddenly.

He glanced up at her, squinting against the sun and then blinking briefly to clear his vision. He'd gotten sweat in his eyes and they were stinging; he had to resist the urge to rub them.

"Ah." He dipped his head, nodding once and turning his eyes back to the rising road ahead. He'd been a bit afraid of this. After Motoko's discovery, it could only have been a matter of time. "I'm sorry about that too, that I am."

"It's not your fault," she said again. "I have to confess to everybody anyway; I might as well do it as soon as we get back."

He nodded solemnly, fighting a sudden need to sit down and rest. He never would have said so out loud, but a part of him wished that she would save this conversation for later. His head was throbbing and following her words was becoming more difficult than he'd expected.

"I'm just glad it's the house dinner tonight," Yuriko was saying. "This way I can just tell them all at once and get it over with."

The house dinner, Kenshin thought vaguely. That meant today was Sunday. The world swayed and he took a sudden step to the left to keep from stumbling. He'd been on the riverbank longer than he'd thought. It had been Thursday evening when he'd last been with Yuriko, almost dawn when he'd reached the river. How many days was that? Friday, Saturday... But it had been early Friday morning; it was late afternoon now. Friday, then Saturday morning...

"Kenshin? Are you all right?" She was looking at him, concern on her face.

"Oro?" he said. He didn't want her to be concerned. It was just a bit hot out here, that was all, and he'd be fine once they reached the subway station. What had she been talking about? Ah, right, confessing to her housemates. "So they don't know yet?" he said.

"What? Who don't know what?"

"Your... your housemates," Kenshin replied lamely. She'd narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. He was sure he'd lost the thread of the conversation.

"Oh, that," she said dismissively, and started walking again. "No, they don't. Not unless Motoko's told everybody. But there's no point not telling them now. The apartment house isn't for couples." She glanced over at him and smiled a small, happy smile.

Couples.

_Marry me?_

He couldn't help it. He grinned back at her, reached out and took her hand. "Thank you, Kaoru," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Everything."

She turned her eyes downward, her smile going a little sad. "I just don't want to wake up in the middle of the night again and not know where you are."

o-o-o

He had assumed that the subway would be underground. It hadn't occurred to him that tunneling was only worth the expense when there was no space to put the tracks on the surface. At least the freestanding roof that covered the platform had provided some shelter from the sun.

Kenshin stepped carefully across the gap and into the train car, trailing Yuriko toward the pair of seats she'd spotted near the closed doors opposite. At least it wasn't too crowded, he thought as he eased himself down onto the hard resin seat beside her, being careful not to jostle his head or his stomach. He leaned his sakabatou discreetly against the tubular metal rail that ran from the edge of the seat up to the ceiling of the train car and sat back. Then he glanced up and gave Yuriko a small reassuring smile.

She returned it distractedly, still fumbling with her bokken. Clearly she wasn't used to carrying it on the subway, Kenshin thought as the doors clunked shut and the train started to move. He reached for it, a tiny motion indicating his intent, and she passed it to him to lean up against his own sword.

"Thanks," she said with a grin, and folded her arms across the shoulder-bag in her lap.

It hadn't actually occurred to Kenshin to wonder what Yuriko would do with her bicycle. As it was, she'd just left it outside the station, front wheel stuck into a long rack that contained a half-dozen similar conveyances already. He ought to have guessed -- he'd seen these bicycle racks around the city scores of times already -- but he'd been a little out of it by then. She must have operated the ticket machine too, because before he'd known what was happening she'd whisked him through the gates and along a corridor to the platform beside the tracks.

Getting out of the sun had helped a lot, as had being able to stand still for a little while. He'd regained his bearings and mostly caught his breath by the time Yuriko had reappeared, a bottle of cold green tea in her hand. She'd twisted off the cap and offered it to him.

He'd been very thirsty. But with all the sun and the walking he'd started to feel a little queasy, and the first sip of tea had turned it into full-blown nausea. It would have been all right except they were on the station platform, they would be boarding a train in a few minutes. If he got sick on the train... The thought was too horrifying to contemplate. So he'd stopped there and forced a smile, passing the tea back to Yuriko. She'd drunk half the bottle.

"Here we are." Yuriko was getting up already, one hand on the railing as the train slowed, hooking the straps of her bag over her shoulder and reaching for her bokken.

"Oro?" This was only the first stop; they couldn't possibly be back in Yanaka already.

"Time to change trains," Yuriko said in the tone of voice she used when addressing the exceptionally obtuse. That tone always made Kenshin smile, no matter how dire the circumstances. And so as she pulled him to his feet, in spite of everything, there was a silly grin plastered all over his face.

o-o-o

Yuriko looked up. The train was slowing again; could they be at the next station already? She adjusted her grip on the hand-rail and peered sideways, trying to see out through the train's windows between the heads of her fellow passengers.

"We apologize for the inconvenience," came the syrupy pre-recorded voice over the train's speakers, and Yuriko groaned. They were stopping between stations. She'd been afraid of this.

This was not normal. Neither was it normal for commuter trains within Tokyo to be jam-packed like this on a Sunday afternoon. But there'd been signs on the platform apologizing for service reductions due to repairs on the Keihin-Tohoku line this weekend, and they'd had to stand there waiting for almost twenty minutes before the silver-and-turquoise train had finally pulled in.

At least she'd been able to get Kenshin to sit down in the shade while they'd waited and drink a little more tea. He hadn't been looking too good, but she hadn't made a big deal about it. If there was one thing Kenshin hated, it was being fussed over.

Yuriko sighed again and pulled out her fan, opening it up and flapping it half-heartedly in the small gap between herself and the middle-aged woman in the pastel cardigan who was squashed up next to her. She was lucky to be standing on the left side of the train; thick golden sunlight was streaming in through the windows opposite. At least when they'd been moving there'd been a bit of a cool breeze from the ventilation grilles, but that seemed to have stopped along with the rest of the train and the already-stifling heat was starting to become unbearable.

This could not be good for Kenshin. Yuriko craned her neck again, trying to see his face past the shoulders of the businessmen who had squeezed in between them at the last stop. He'd looked worryingly flushed by the time they'd boarded this second train, and she'd briefly considered interrupting their journey to take him in somewhere with air conditioning.

She should have stuck closer to him, Yuriko thought. All she could see of him now was one skinny forearm sticking up above the heads of the crowds to cling to the white plastic grab-ring hanging from the ceiling above. The magenta sleeve of his kimono had slid down past his elbow, revealing a distinct line where his sunburn began.

The train lurched into motion and she saw Kenshin's knuckles go white on the grab-ring as the entire crowd swayed as one. She smiled, half amused, half sympathetic. He was practically dangling from the ring. She hadn't had to do that since before her final growth spurt in junior high school. She ought to have steered him to one of the vertical rails instead.

The ventilation had come back on. She actually felt the crowd relax now that they were gathering speed again, now that there was air to breathe. She'd never quite noticed that before, had never paid that much attention to the subtle body language of the people around her.

Maybe that skill had come from Kaoru. But now that Yuriko considered it, she wasn't entirely sure whether it was even new. Surely she'd been like this before -- she just hadn't thought about it that much.

This morning there had been a sharp distinction between those two personalities, those two lives, those two histories that coexisted mind-bendingly inside her head. Pedaling through Ueno and down to the Sumidagawa the duality had faded, her mind running back onto familiar rails, falling back into familiar patterns of thought. By the time she'd found Kenshin she'd had to use the bokken again to bring back Kaoru's awareness. But now...

Now those two lives were blurring together. They were blurring together, because they had never really been so different. The memories were distinct, of course; it was easy enough to tell which ones had come from her more recent past as Yuriko and which had come from the Meiji era. But the thought patterns, the core personality that underlay them... There was no longer really a distinction.

Had there ever been?

Yuriko glanced over again toward Kenshin's grab-ring, reassuring herself with the sight of his hand clenched around the plastic. Maybe it was that she was with him again. Or maybe it was just the newness wearing off, the elements of Kaoru's personality slotting into the grooves that had always been there, lying latent in her mind.

Attitudes and ideas are not shaped only by one's experiences. If they were, she would have cared about Kenshin's past. Everything in Yuriko's experience, everything her parents had taught her would have made it matter to her, would have made that her truth. Her parents had taught her to be careful, to learn something about her friends before she let herself get too close to them. And that was the way she'd grown up in this era. She hadn't been too trusting. She hadn't been a risk-taker.

But had that really been her? Or had that just been the shape her parents had molded, when she'd been too young and too naive to think about it for herself? Because Kaoru hadn't been like that. Fate had thrown Kaoru out of the safe warm cocoon of childhood and forced her to be her own self.

Kaoru had never cared about Kenshin's past. And despite everything in her own experience, Yuriko hadn't either.

She smiled then, in spite of the moistness in her eyes, because she understood. What she'd said to Kenshin on the grass beside the river had not been entirely true. She'd told him that she was still the same person, that she'd made no sacrifice to come to this point. But what could be gained without sacrifice? What could be created without destroying that which was there before? What was falling in love but a giving-up of one's solitude, a sacrificing of some measure of individuality to make room for something greater?

It hurts, that sacrifice, that rewriting of one's psychology. Once, that pain had frightened her; the first taste of those new emotions had been more than a little terrifying.

But no more. Some things are worth that pain.

o-o-o

Maekawa Takeshi stood in the crowded concourse of Tokyo Station and stared up at the rail diagram, lips flattened in a tight frown. To anyone from outside the city, the Tokyo rail diagram was almost a running joke. Lines of all colors twisted this way and that like a work of modern art, like a thick tangle of yarn held in the spiderweb of the neat black Japan Rail lines that ran out to the suburbs. For a moment he'd thought he'd even spotted Yokohama on there, but he'd lost it again.

Takeshi crossed his arms tightly across his chest and started again. Yanaka, he thought. How hard could that be to find? Yuriko had told him it was northwest of the city center, not far from Ueno. He'd found Ueno -- that had been easy; it was a major station labeled with big black kanji in its own little white box on the map -- but try as frantically as he might, he just couldn't find Yanaka Station.

Damn it, he thought. This was taking far too long, and time was the one thing he wasn't willing to spare. He'd have to ask someone. Takeshi turned away from the tangle and hurried off in search of a station attendant.

As it happened, there was no Yanaka Station. The station in Yanaka was Nishi-nippori. 


	41. Collision time

** 41. Collision time **

It was cool in the station. It had been cool on the train, too, once it had finally descended into the underground darkness, and Kenshin had begun to feel almost normal. His headache had subsided, he could breathe properly again, he'd had no difficulty hopping off the train and skipping up the stairs by Yuriko's side. He'd even managed to feed his ticket into the little slot in the gate without breaking stride. It was cool enough that by the time they reached the station's familiar entrance hall, passing between the florist and the newsagent under the bright artificial lighting, he'd actually started to shiver a little.

Coming out of the station was like walking into a wall. The biggest surprise was how immediate it was: one step out into the heat and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't even see properly through the glare off the sea of concrete.

_Keep moving._

Yuriko had taken his hand and somehow they were half way across the station forecourt already, heading for the crosswalk and the stoplights at the edge of the street.

Did she know? Was she worrying about him already? There was still no air -- it had all gone solid like golden glass filling the space around him, lead-heavy with sunlight and humidity, and no matter how hard he breathed he just couldn't pull it into his lungs. He felt woozy, light-headed, as if he'd just lost a lot of blood. He knew he'd be all right; he knew it was just the heat and nothing to worry about. But he recognized this feeling, he recognized the bright darkness that was starting to press in around the edges of his vision, and he knew that if he passed out now, Yuriko would be guaranteed to worry.

They'd stopped on the curb, waiting for the lights to change. Kenshin forced himself to take a deep breath, to hold it for a moment before letting it out. He had to get a grip on himself. He could do this; it was just a little farther, just down the street and through the park and up the hill to Yuriko's apartment house. He knew he could do this; he'd fought battles in worse condition before. He just had to keep concentrating, to keep breathing, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Yuriko was holding his hand. He couldn't make her worry now.

o-o-o

_This isn't real._

Hashimoto Hana walked on through the quiet streets of Yanaka, the westering sun hot on her haori-clad shoulders and the anxiety cold in her stomach.

_This can't be real._

She was trailing a pace behind Motoko, letting the older girl choose their path. They'd stopped already at the grocery, at the convenience store, at the shops all up and down Yanaka Ginza, had talked to the clerks and the shopkeepers, had asked them all about Yuriko.

They hadn't needed a photograph. Everyone remembered the woman with the auburn hair. And no-one had seen her today.

_This is a dream._

She hadn't believed it, at first. She still didn't really believe it, didn't really _want_ to believe it. But Motoko had told her.

_Kenshin is not a woman._

Motoko had told her, and Hana had just stared uncomprehendingly back.

_Well, yeah, she's a little flat-chested, but--_

Up to that point it could have been just a mistake, could have been just a joke. But Motoko had gone on, had told her how she'd found out, had told her what had happened earlier in the week. The real reason why Kenshin had missed the Shinsengumi rerun Wednesday night. And Motoko had told her more. Motoko had quoted statistics.

_This isn't real._

It couldn't be real, could it? Not Kenshin. Not Yuriko. Not people so close to her own life. But if it wasn't real, then why was she canvassing the neighborhood with Motoko? If it wasn't real, then why was the fear radiating cold all the way down to her fingers? She clutched the white-triangled edges of her haori, as if for reassurance.

_You can help,_ Motoko had said, and so Hana had come. She could do this without leaving Midori in the lurch over dinner; she'd already bought the ice cream anyway, and it was still plenty early enough that she could throw the salad together when they got back. But what could she do? Her only contribution so far had been to suggest heading over to the other side of Yanaka to check the library, on a vague memory of Yuriko hauling home a stack of plastic-jacketed tomes a couple of weeks ago. But aside from one suggestion, what could she do? She was just a pre-first-year engineering student, still trying to decide between aerospace and nuclear. It wasn't like she could fight to protect a person. It wasn't like she was Okita Soushi, dashing and heroic and invincible with a sword--

Hana stopped in her tracks, her lips parting in surprise. She and Motoko had come around the corner a block from the subway station and as if by magic there they were, just crossing the street at the light, Yuriko and-- and--

Half of her was seeing the Kenshin she knew from this past week, small and cute and harmless as ever, face half hidden by those long red bangs. If Motoko hadn't told her, she could still have mistaken him for a girl.

The other half of her was seeing the figure of a swordsman.

The hair lifted on the back of Hana's neck. It was all there: the flowing hakama, the wide-sleeved kimono, the long curve of the katana sweeping gracefully from his waist.

His hair was tied at the back of his neck. If it had been pulled up into a topknot, she might have screamed.

o-o-o

Motoko caught sight of them as soon as she rounded the corner: the auburn hair and the red, standing out so obviously among the stream of ordinary dark-haired people crossing the street at the stoplight in front of the station.

They had reached the curb, had turned left up the sidewalk towards her and Hana. They were walking slowly, heads down as if they'd come a long way.

He was holding her hand.

Motoko's hands curled into fists as the hard fury took over. She set her teeth and strode forward.

It was Yuriko who noticed her first, her head coming up and surprise flashing across her face. Motoko ignored her. Yuriko was not her target. Her target was Kenshin.

He didn't look up until the very last moment, as if he hadn't been aware of her at all until she was right in front of him.

"Remember this," she snarled, and hit him.

She was running on rage, the white-hot flare of it driving her forward. For the girls in the villages, for her students in Women's Defense, for all the women in the world.

For her mother.

It was no different from training. A quick double strike, just as she'd practiced, just as she'd taught her own students. The first hit, left-handed to the solar plexus, and then the second to the jaw just as he started to double over. Strike fast and strong, all your power behind it, no doubt in your mind.

He folded under her blows, yielding far more readily than the training bags ever had. Most men were big, much bigger than women, and that at the root of it was the source of their power. Physical intimidation, pure and simple. And so she had trained to be able to take on the biggest of them, no matter her own size. But Kenshin was small, shorter than her and lighter as well. He crashed back into the chain-link fence and slid limply down it, his expression stunned.

She'd done it. She was _doing_ it. The torch inside her flared hotter, feeding on fury and ecstasy and she reached down, grasping him by the front of his magenta kimono to drag him back to his feet. He was dazed, unresisting, but his eyes were open, wide with shock. She pulled back her right elbow, twisting her shoulders for the maximum power.

He had dared. For all the women in the world, this was her vengeance.

"Motoko, _no!_"

It was Yuriko, wailing at her, grabbing hold of her right arm. She'd dropped the honorific, Motoko noted obliquely as the fury blasted through her, stronger than before.

How dare she? How dare Yuriko, a woman, defend this man? It was Yuriko who'd brought him in among them in the first place, Yuriko who'd lied to them all.

But Yuriko was weak; her grip on Motoko's arm was like tissue-paper compared to the burning anger inside. Yuriko was a traitor, beneath contempt.

Motoko growled and jabbed her elbow backward, twisting hips and shoulders, the strength coming up from her legs to throw off this petty annoyance. Yuriko lost her grip, fell backwards. Kenshin was reacting, trying to reach out, eyes on Yuriko and a pleading anguish on his face.

It didn't matter. She would teach him. Motoko drew back her right arm and tightened her fist.

_-- She had been eight years old, small and weak and picked on by her third-grade classmates. She'd been supposed to stay a little after school that day to help clean the classroom but her teacher had seen the other girl pushing her around and sent her home early. She'd heard the shouting as she'd opened the front door and knew that she wasn't supposed to be here, that she wasn't supposed to see this, but she'd gone in anyway, hurrying despite the fear that clenched in her belly._

She saw him hit her. In the stomach, and then in the face. She fell back against the wall and he grabbed the front of her dress and pulled her back up to her feet, winding up to hit her again. Motoko screamed and threw herself onto him, catching at his arm, trying to hold him back. She had to stop this, even though she was only eight and a weakling who always got chosen last for kickball.

He had tossed her off with no effort at all. Just a little twist of his shoulders, a little flick of his arm. She wasn't supposed to be here, and it didn't matter that she was. And then he'd hit her again --

Motoko froze, her eyes going wide. Her mother hadn't tried to fight back, hadn't tried to resist for her own sake. But she had tried to stop him when Motoko got involved. She had reached out, eyes on Motoko's own and a pleading anguish on her face.

She remembered Kenshin's face as she'd dragged him up, the dazed look, the shock-widened eyes. This was the same. This was how her mother had looked, in that same moment.

She'd been enjoying this. This, the culmination of all her training. The tremendous satisfaction when her fist had driven into flesh instead of the thick padding of the training bags. The rush of ecstasy as she'd seen him fall under her precise blows. She would have happily beaten him senseless, would have happily put in a couple of extra kicks for good measure.

She'd told herself she was training to protect people. But that wasn't it, was it. All this time she'd been training for revenge.

_Oh god,_ she thought, letting the fabric of his kimono slip from between her fingers. _What have I become?_

o-o-o

It was like a dream.

It was like a movie, like a television show, like all Hana could do was stand there on the corner and watch it happen because none of it was real. She stood and watched as Motoko strode forward, as Kenshin fell under her blows, as Yuriko shouted and grabbed at her arm. She stood and watched as Motoko threw the other girl off like she was nothing, like it was all choreographed for the camera and none of it was real. She saw Yuriko stumble on the curb and fall backward and she saw the truck whish past her own right shoulder full speed down the street and she suddenly knew--

_This is real._

Hana screamed.

o-o-o

There are things you take for granted. Things you see all the time. Things that make up the structure of your life, the fabric of your reality.

Precious things.

You don't realize sometimes that those things can disappear.

Bad things happen. Not because of anything you did, or anything you failed to do. Bad things happen sometimes, and sometimes they make you realize how precious those things really are.

Sometimes they change your whole world.

Maekawa Takeshi had come looking for his daughter. He walked out of the station just in time to see her fall into the street.

There was no time to close his eyes, and so he saw it all.

o-o-o

Kenshin hadn't seen her coming. He'd been concentrating too hard on just moving forward, on just keeping up with Yuriko, to even sense Motoko's presence until she was right in front of them.

Her first punch had knocked the wind out of him; her second had threatened to knock him out entirely. They had been precise, focused: the technique of a trained martial artist. And they'd had a lot of power behind them.

She'd dragged him up from where he'd fallen against the fence and pulled back to hit him again and suddenly Yuriko was there, screaming something he couldn't catch over the throbbing in his head, grabbing hold of Motoko's arm.

Alarm shot through him, pushing back some of the blackness that was starting to engulf his senses and he tried to warn her, tried to reach out an arm to shield her from Motoko, but he couldn't put the words together and even if he could he had no breath to say them and the world was swinging around him so badly that if Motoko hadn't been holding him up by the front of his kimono he would have been on the ground.

It was all happening too fast. Motoko growled something through clenched teeth and thrust her arm sharply backward, hurling Yuriko off and into the street.

Kenshin saw her fall. He saw the truck, speeding down the street, too close already to stop in time. He sensed the sudden panic of the driver, heard the brakes start to squeal, saw Yuriko sprawled on the pavement directly in its path.

Time stopped.

And Kenshin moved.

o-o-o

She had tried to protect him. But she had underestimated Motoko's strength.

The curb had dropped away unexpectedly and Yuriko had stumbled, losing her footing, falling backwards into the street. The hand-carved bokken bruised her bottom as she sprawled onto the asphalt, the indigo ribbon yanking back on her left shoulder. Yanking her around to see her death speeding toward her.

The truck was too close, only a second away, too little time to get up or even roll out of its path. Too little time for her to feel any fear; time only for numb denial and the leading edge of grief, that in spite of everything she was going to leave him alone again.

It wasn't supposed to end this way. This was supposed to be the beginning.

Something slammed into her.

o-o-o

Bad things happen. Sometimes they happen and they destroy your whole world. But other times there's a bit of chance, a bit of luck, and someone steps in and changes the flow of time. Just a little bit. Just enough. Sometimes, the precious things can be saved.

Maekawa Takeshi saw it all, and he didn't quite believe his eyes.

o-o-o

It took Yuriko a moment to realize that she was still alive. She was _alive_ and someone was screaming and the truck was squealing horribly right across the spot where she'd fallen. She was alive because Kenshin had scooped her off the pavement in the space between one heartbeat and the next. They were across the street already, onto the sidewalk just down from the station before she'd even had time to take a breath.

Kenshin stumbled and she grabbed at him through the sudden tangle of her shoulder-bag strap and the silk ribbon across her chest. She started to open her mouth, started to say something, anything, but all she got out was a gasp as he dropped to his knees and set her down abruptly onto hard concrete, a look of breathless alarm flickering across his face.

"Kensh-"

He'd thrown an arm awkwardly across her, trying to catch himself as he fell forward. He missed.

Yuriko was in time to catch him in turn as he crumpled across her.

"Kenshin?"

He wasn't moving. He was hanging boneless, a dead weight across her arms, unresponsive even as she shook him.

_"Kenshin!"_


	42. Survival

** 42. Survival **

At least he was breathing. She could see it, the way the ends of his hair fluttered where they'd fallen across his face. There was a tremendous commotion going on, someone still screaming and someone else yelling her name and all the traffic coming to a halt on the road right next to her but none of that mattered.

Carefully, quickly, she turned Kenshin half over. If the truck had clipped him he would've dropped her immediately; it wasn't like a sword duel where it took a moment to realize one had been cut. She pushed his bangs up and away from his face. He hadn't been well on the subway; she knew he'd been suffering from the heat but he'd seemed all right once they'd finally gone underground. Now his skin was flushed and dry and dangerously hot.

Yuriko grimaced, looking up anxiously. She had to get him into the shade--

"Yuriko! _Yuriko!_"

Someone was shouting at her, the familiar voice shrill with alarm, shouting at her and running towards her across the station forecourt.

_-- father --_

His orange hair was almost aflame in the sunlight.

_-- my father was drafted for the --_

_No._

Yuriko blinked as the last pieces of her personality slotted smoothly into place, as the last loose ends of her memories knitted neatly together.

Not her father. Her _dad_.

Yes, her father had lost his life in the Seinan war. But her _dad_... her dad was right here, running towards her across the plaza in front of the station. Everything made sense now. Everything was perfectly natural. Her father and her dad were two different people, and she loved them both.

"Dad!" she shouted, hastily gathering Kenshin's shoulders up into her arms. She was obliquely aware that the old Yuriko would have been crying. But she was more than that now, and stronger.

Besides, Kenshin needed help.

"Oh, Yuriko. Oh my god. Oh my god." Takeshi had reached her, had knelt on the sidewalk to lay his hands on her back and shoulders. "My baby, oh, my Yuriko. You're not hurt. Tell me you're not hurt."

"Dad, I'm fine! Help me get him into the shade!"

o-o-o

They were alive. They were both alive, Yuriko and Kenshin, and Hana could see them now through the commotion, just up on the other side of the street.

She closed her mouth, her mind awhirl.

She'd been about to see Yuriko die. There'd been nothing she could do; there'd been no way the truck could have stopped in time. And it hadn't -- it was surely standing now across the very spot where Yuriko had fallen. She could see Motoko still kneeling on the sidewalk, level with its doubled back wheels. But somehow, in the moment that the truck had blocked her view, Yuriko and Kenshin had both ended up on the opposite sidewalk. Safe.

Safe? Yuriko was sprawled on the pavement, Kenshin draped limply across her.

_He saved her--_

She was shaking him, trying to turn him over, looking up to yell out at the orange-haired man who was running towards them from the direction of the station.

_He saved her, and now--_

Hana's mouth had gone dry. They were lifting him now, by shoulders and knees, carrying him her way up the far side of the street. She could see them through the stopped traffic.

They matched, those three. Orange, auburn and red.

_You can help._

Hana swallowed. There must be something she could do, something more than standing uselessly on the corner and screaming.

They were setting Kenshin down now, carefully, in the mouth of a narrow laneway half-obscured by the first of the big old street-trees opposite. A truck door slammed and she glanced back to see the ashen-faced driver stepping shakily down into the street.

_You can help._

Her heroes would be doing something. Okita would be doing something. Something that didn't require being invincible with a sword.

_I can help._

Hana's fingers curled around the white-triangled edges of her haori and she stepped forward into the street.

o-o-o

"Over here. Careful."

Takeshi followed Yuriko into the shade at the opening of the alley, maneuvering his burden between a post box and the iron-caged trunk of the big oak. His heart was still pounding.

"Right, just set him down--"

She was all right, Takeshi thought as he lowered Kenshin's knees gently toward the paving stones. She was alive. She was all right. He was still numb, still in shock but it was all right because she was alive, it didn't matter because she'd taken charge and all he had to do was follow her directions now and everything would be fine.

She'd taken charge? A part of him was surprised that she wasn't curled up on the ground sobbing.

She'd knelt awkwardly, trying not to block too much of the sidewalk, lowering Kenshin down near the base of the shoebox-sized shrine just inside the alley's mouth. The lane ran back between the pink stucco wall of the shop they'd just passed and a concrete high-rise apartment building, wide enough only for foot traffic and perhaps an adventurous motor-bike.

Kenshin stirred, flinched, and Yuriko bent over him to murmur something, her hands still cupped under his head.

"Yu-chan?"

Takeshi looked round, startled. It was a teenaged girl in a hot pink t-shirt, boyishly short-haired, holding out a roughly folded square of turquoise fabric.

"Oh! Thanks." Yuriko shot the girl a quick but grateful smile and slipped the fabric under Kenshin's head. Then she dumped her shoulder-bag onto the ground beside him and thrust an arm into its depths. "Hana-chan," she continued urgently, "run over to the station and get him something to drink. Iced tea, water, it doesn't matter. Please? I'll--"

"No problem."

Takeshi glanced up as Hana hurried off towards the station plaza, then turned his eyes hungrily back to his daughter. She was alive. She was all right. How could he possibly look at her enough?

She'd pulled a hand towel and a half-full bottle of tea out of her bag, had unscrewed the cap and was sloshing the liquid onto the balled terry-cloth. She set down the bottle and slapped the cloth up against the sides of Kenshin's neck.

_Kenshin._

Takeshi moistened his lips.

He'd flinched again at the contact, eyelids fluttering briefly open. Yuriko sighed, sitting back for a moment, then bent forward again to brush the hair gently off his forehead.

_The red hair._

"Kenshin," she murmured to him. "You're going to be fine. I'll be right back, okay?" She looked up at Takeshi, her mouth set. "Dad, could you look after him? There's something I have to take care of. And make sure he gets something to drink, all right?"

"Um-- yeah," Takeshi managed to say before she was up and gone, striding through the stopped traffic with her bag over her shoulder and that length of wood still strapped across her back. He watched as she stopped to talk to the stunned driver of the truck, watched them exchange polite bows, watched her go on toward the opposite sidewalk.

She was all right. Was it right for her to be so very all right? When had his baby girl become so calmly competent? She'd been that close to being hit by a truck. And this man had saved her.

Takeshi turned his eyes back to the form on the ground. Himura Kenshin, he thought. Himura Kenshin, with the red hair. It was really red, Takeshi could see now, all the way to the roots. His eyebrows were red too, his eyelashes darker but still distinctly tinged.

Takeshi reached out to pluck the wet hand towel off Kenshin's neck, refolding it and laying it carefully across his forehead. He sat for a moment, watching the younger man stir briefly, watching the slight movement of his breathing.

The scar on his cheek was real, too -- real, or a shockingly skilled work of stage make-up.

Takeshi tilted his head slightly, closing his teeth for a moment on the tip of his left thumbnail. Then he reached out and picked up the cloth again. He gently wiped the dust and dried sweat from Kenshin's forehead, then from his left cheek.

No; not stage make-up. Guiltily, Takeshi sloshed a bit more tea onto the towel and laid it back on Kenshin's forehead. This was no look-alike, no impostor stalking their daughter. This was the man in the photograph, red hair and all.

He and Yoko had been wrong. This man had just saved their daughter's life.

o-o-o

Awareness returned like it always did, a crashing torrent of light and sound and jumbled sensation, a rough and immediate mapping of the sources of ki around him and the duller bulk of inert matter, a need screaming through his body to _move_. He could be on his feet before he could see properly, could be fighting again before he even remembered what it was that had laid him out. If he needed to.

Someone was pressing him back, trying to keep him from sitting up. Not Kaoru. A--? No, not a stranger--

Kenshin blinked, trying to focus on the face swimming in his vision. A vaguely familiar face, topped with sandy orange hair.

Maekawa Takeshi, wasn't it? That was all right then.

And then the memory returned, and he bolted upright.

"Kaoru-- is she--?"

"Shh, careful, she's fine." Takeshi was pressing him back by the shoulders, trying to get him to lie down again. "She's safe. She's just over there talking to that other girl."

"Leave me alone, I'm all right, that I am," he muttered indistinctly, shrugging away from Takeshi's hands and trying to peer across the street. The light was hurting his eyes, pulsing in time with the pounding in his head, but he could kind of see her now, see her auburn hair and the line of the bokken across her back, see her standing bent over a kneeling figure. It looked like Motoko, with the long black hair down her back. Kenshin took a breath, relief sloshing through him but drawing after it a new concern.

Motoko. Something would have to be done.

It looked like Yuriko was already doing it.

He remembered seeing Yuriko fall. He remembered his heart stopping, everything stopping, the whole world disappearing except for her. He remembered moving, remembered scooping her off the pavement. Time had started again, then, everything rushing into a blur, only momentum carrying them across toward the far sidewalk. He was pretty sure he'd lost his footing at some point. He hoped he hadn't dropped her.

"Here."

Kenshin looked up. Takeshi was offering him a small wet towel. He reached out and took it, then frowned at the sodden thing in his hand, at a loss.

"Here, let me." Takeshi took the towel out of his hand and reached for his neck.

Kenshin dodged back. "What--"

"You're overheated. This'll help."

Kenshin blinked, processing this information, then hunched his shoulders and let the towel be laid across the back of his neck.

This patch of shade wasn't where momentum would have carried them. That would've been farther down, back closer to the station, across from where Yuriko and Motoko were now. Had someone carried him here?

"There's not a lot of this left, but you should drink it anyway," Takeshi was saying, holding up a clear bottle with an inch or two of tea in the bottom.

Maekawa Takeshi? Kenshin blinked at him for a moment, accepting the bottle when it was put into his hands. "Takeshi-dono?" he said.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?" 


	43. Reconciliation

** 43. Reconciliation **

"Motoko-san."

Yuriko said the name gently. She didn't want to startle the other girl, didn't want to let any hint of recrimination enter her voice. Motoko was kneeling on the sidewalk, head down, eyes on the base of the fence against which Kenshin had fallen.

"I hated her," Motoko said into the silence. Her voice was flat, almost emotionless, but there was a hint of surprise in it, as if she hadn't been expecting these words.

Yuriko stood silent, listening.

"I hated her for never fighting back." Motoko took a breath and looked up, her gray eyes meeting Yuriko's. "That's why I left. I just couldn't stand it any more. And all this time--" Her voice broke, but she wrestled it back under control. "All this time I was just looking for revenge. I thought I was helping people protect themselves. But really I just wanted to _hit-_" She bit off the word, bowing her head as if trying not to sob.

"Motoko-san. It's all right." Yuriko crouched down beside the younger woman and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I wanted to kill him. When I found out--" Motoko broke off again, shaking her head slightly. "But Kenshin-san never did anything to me. I wanted to kill him and he never did anything at all..." She moved, pivoting round on her knees to look behind her, eventually spotting Kenshin on the far side of the street, sitting on the sidewalk with his head down. Takeshi was squatting beside him.

"Is-- is he all right?" Motoko's voice was low, almost afraid.

"It's just the heat," Yuriko replied softly, sitting back on her heels to follow Motoko's gaze. "I don't think you hurt him that badly."

Motoko took a slow breath, as if trying to get a grip on herself, gazing across the road at the pair of figures on the sidewalk. Yuriko waited.

"Oh my god," Motoko breathed. She raised one hand to cover her mouth and turned abruptly back toward Yuriko, her eyes widened with horror. "I pushed you out into the street. I could have-- The traffic-- I could have killed you too."

Yuriko shifted uncomfortably. Motoko must have just worked it out. There was no way she wouldn't have heard the squealing of the truck tires, no way she shouldn't have heard Hana screaming; no way she couldn't have known that Yuriko had landed in the street when she'd shoved her. It had taken Motoko this long to work through the rest of it before she could put those pieces together.

"Yuriko-san." Motoko looked up at her again, her gray eyes almost pleading. "Am I a murderer?"

"No," Yuriko replied firmly. She put her knees down, facing Motoko squarely and laying her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "No, Motoko-san, you're not. No one is dead. No one's even hurt." She glanced back across the street towards Kenshin. "At least not badly," she added.

"I wanted to kill him," Motoko said again, softly, wonderingly. "All this time, and I just wanted to hurt someone. Because of _them_. Because..." She trailed off, and lowered her head again. "Because of her."

Yuriko took another breath, wincing internally. This was awkward. This was more than awkward; this was practically her worst nightmare, having to deal with a person in this emotional state. But if she just walked away, she wouldn't be able to make it better.

This was about the 'other woman' that Kenshin had spoken of. Yuriko ought to have wondered about it, ought to have thought more about it at the time. But back then, she hadn't been ready to deal with other people's pain.

"Motoko-san," she said at last. "You didn't hurt me, and Kenshin's going to be fine. We're not important. The important thing is her." Whoever she is, Yuriko thought. But she could guess well enough. "You can still put it right. There are still things you can do. There are always things you can do." It was true; she knew that it was true. There was always something that could be done. It was never too late. Never.

Kenshin had shown her that, a long time ago.

Motoko nodded vaguely, her head still down, eyes half-hidden beneath her straight-cut bangs.

Yuriko waited.

Motoko was silent for a long time. Then a pair of tears tracked down her cheeks, ran along the line of her jaw, and dripped together off her chin.

"You okay?" Yuriko asked gently. She fished in her shoulder-bag and pulled out a packet of tissues, which she offered to Motoko.

Motoko accepted the kleenex and wiped at her eyes. "...Yeah," she said throatily. "I'll... I need some time to think."

Yuriko nodded. "Yes," she said, and got to her feet.

o-o-o

Kenshin sat on the cobblestones, eyes on the tea bottle wrapped in his hands.

_I just came to see Yuriko._

Maekawa Takeshi had shrugged and said it lightly, had gotten up to peer across the street, had commented that it looked like Yuriko and the other girl were still talking. There'd been something a little bit awkward in his tone, something a little bit evasive in the way he'd changed the subject. Kenshin swallowed the last of the tea and at that moment it hit him.

Maekawa Takeshi was Yuriko's father, wasn't he.

Kenshin's mouth went dry, his stomach clenching as if he'd been hit there again. The tea bottle crackled in his grip.

Yuriko had a father.

He'd known it already; of course he'd known it: he had drawn up the entire family tree, had been shown her photograph in the Maekawas' living room. But he hadn't put it together until now.

Yuriko had a father, and he was standing right here.

He had to ask. Yuriko had a father, and that meant he _had_ to ask. He'd never been in this position before. But there was no way he could avoid this, not with Yuriko's father standing right here.

Kenshin took a deep breath and set the tea bottle carefully upright beside the folded bundle of Shinsengumi-colored fabric that someone had left beneath the little shrine. He got up onto his knees and leant forward, bowing his head in supplication.

"Takeshi-dono--" he began, and winced. He couldn't start that way. That wasn't nearly formal enough.

"Maekawa-dono," he amended, pitching his voice as clear and level as he could, keeping his eyes fixed on the cobblestone just past the ends of his bangs. "Your permission is most humbly requested-- requested t-to--" Kenshin stuttered to a halt, breathless. Could he do this? Could he ask such a question? Could he make such a request of anyone, let alone Maekawa Takeshi, Yuriko's father?

This was far harder than he'd expected, far harder than the time he'd gone down on his knees to beg Hiko for the completion of his training. Then, it had only been his life and his sanity on the line. This time the stakes were much higher.

He had to do this. Yuriko had asked him already and he'd said yes. He caught his breath and plunged ahead.

"--to marry your daughter, that it is!" he blurted, and then squeezed his eyes shut as if bracing for a blow.

Takeshi was silent. Kenshin could feel the older man's eyes on the top of his bowed head, could feel the astonished ki not a yard away. His heart was racing, had been racing since he'd started to speak, and his hands were starting to tremble now. He pressed his fingers formally together, pressed his palms flat against the cobbles. _Please,_ he begged, silently.

What if Takeshi said no? What would he do then? What would he tell Yuriko? The silence had gone on far too long--

"Dad..." It was Yuriko's voice. Kenshin caught his breath and froze, not daring to look up. She had come back over. She had finished talking to Motoko. He could feel her ki, right there beside Takeshi's.

"Yuriko?" Takeshi's voice was pitched low, confidential. "Do you... know about this already?"

"I proposed to him," she said, as if admitting to something she oughtn't have done.

"And?"

"And he said yes."

Kenshin heard Takeshi take a long breath through his nose, and let it out in a sigh. "Your mother's going to have something to say about this," he said.

"I'll... I'll talk to her."

There was a pause. Kenshin could imagine Takeshi shaking his head. He felt sick and dizzy, a cramping cold radiating out from his stomach, his heart still hammering against the inside of his ribs as if it wanted to escape. He'd been holding his breath for he didn't know how long.

"Fine," Takeshi said at last. "If that's what you both want, I'll give you my blessing."

An immense wave of relief swept through Kenshin. He jumped to his feet, and promptly blacked out.

o-o-o

"Kenshin!" Yuriko lunged forward to catch him, half-colliding with her dad as he did the same.

"Sorry-- I'm fine-- I'm all right, that I am, please don't worry--" Kenshin was apologizing already, trying to get his feet under him, clinging to their tangled arms for support.

"Sit _down,_ you idiot," she said gently.

Kenshin allowed himself to be lowered to the cobbles. "Sorry, Kaoru," he murmured again, then glanced up half-alarmed at Takeshi. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and gave Takeshi a small terrified smile.

"He should probably--" Takeshi began.

Yuriko ignored them both, looking back instead over her shoulder to wave Hana over. She'd been in time to intercept the girl hurrying back from the station with a vending-machine bottle in each hand, had held her back with a silent look when she'd seen the developing interchange between Kenshin and her dad.

"Hana-chan, pass me one of those."

"Sure." Hana handed over one of the bottles, then stood back, watching.

Yuriko twisted off the cap and placed the bottle firmly in Kenshin's hands. "Drink," she said. Then she turned back to Hana.

"Thanks, Hana-chan," she said sincerely. "Can I ask you one more favor?"

"Yeah, no problem." The expression on Hana's face was a wide-eyed mix of shock and excitement.

"Could you go look after Motoko? Take her back home if that's what she wants. I'll be along in a few minutes. I'm... I need to apologize. To everyone."

Hana opened her mouth, hesitating for a moment, realizing the implications. "Yeah," she said at last.

"Thanks. And thanks for this." Yuriko passed the younger girl her haori. Hana accepted it, passed over the second bottle in return, and turned away.

Yuriko turned back to Kenshin. "You asked his _permission,_" she hissed. Takeshi was still standing by the corner of the pink stuccoed wall, trying to watch without looking like he was watching.

"Oro?"

"I was going to tell him," she whispered, feeling defensive. She had been, really; once things had quieted down she'd been going to tell him everything. Him and her mom. Yuriko swallowed. God, this wasn't going to be easy. She'd never had to deal with this kind of thing before.

No, she decided; it didn't matter that it wouldn't be easy. Her dad understood already. Her mother would understand once she'd explained it. And her housemates -- well, if they didn't understand, it didn't really matter anyway. The apartment house wasn't for couples.

And Kenshin was more important than any of that.

She beamed at him, remembering how it had felt to be searching for him, how much it had hurt when he hadn't been right here in front of her. She reached out and tenderly brushed aside his bangs. "Drink that," she told him again, and got to her feet.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Could you look after Kenshin again?"

Takeshi gave her a small nod, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips as if to say 'of course.'

"I have to go back up to the apartment house," Yuriko went on. "Just for a little while. Wait for me, okay? I'll come back down to the station."

"Sure."

"And dad... It might-- It might be all three of us going back to Kamakura tonight."

o-o-o

Maekawa Takeshi watched his daughter walk back down the street toward the traffic light, swiftly, confidently. For a moment he saw her as the other people on the street would see her -- a woman in skirt and blouse and mid-length auburn hair, cream-and-maroon canvas bag over one shoulder, stepping calmly but purposefully into the crosswalk.

She was no longer a child. But she would always be his baby.

Takeshi glanced back down, toward his daughter's new fiance. Kenshin was sitting on the cobblestones, eyeing the open bottle in his hand with a mix of anxiety and disgust.

Takeshi arched an eyebrow. The bottle's contents were a fluorescent yellow-green, the label a splash of blobby-lettered primary colors. "You're not drinking that," Takeshi commented.

"What _is_ it?" 


	44. The truth

** 44. The truth **

"Hello, Maekawa residence."

"Yoko love?" Takeshi said. "It's me. I'm here." He was standing under the clear plastic bubble of the pay-phone just inside the station entrance, systematically winding the phone cord around his right index finger as he talked.

"Takeshi!" His wife's voice was urgent. "Did you find her? Is she safe?"

"Yeah, love. She's fine. I found her. She's perfectly fine."

"Oh, thank god." There was a pause as Yoko turned away from the phone, a muffled echo as she relayed the news. "Sae-chan, she's fine. She's all right. Your uncle's found her."

Takeshi sighed, relieved. He'd gone in to make this call as soon as he and Kenshin had reached the station. Now that he knew Yuriko was safe he couldn't make Yoko wait and worry any longer than necessary. But there was more now that Yoko needed to know.

"Yoko..." he began, glancing back over his right shoulder toward the big glass doors. He'd left Kenshin just outside the station entrance, sitting on one of the stamped metal benches in the wedge of shade cast by the protruding wing of the building. From the phone he could just see him, a splash of magenta through the far right edge of the tinted windowpane beside the sliding glass doors. The younger man had slipped off his zori in order to sit cross-legged on the bench, hands folded discreetly in his lap, eyes hidden behind his shaggy red bangs.

"Yoko," Takeshi said again, "she found Himura-san."

There was a pause. "Yes?" Yoko said, and there was a slight tremor in her voice.

Takeshi took a breath. This needed to be explained. This was important now. "We were wrong about him, love."

Another pause. "Wrong?"

"Yeah. He's fine. He's Yuriko's friend." _He saved Yuriko's life._

"But that photo--"

"I know, I know. But love -- the hair is real, the scar is real, he's not an impersonator at all." He leaned away from the phone to peer back again through the glass toward the bench where Kenshin was sitting. He'd felt a strange reluctance to leave him alone out there, a strange compulsion to follow literally Yuriko's request to look after him, but he'd needed to make this call and Kenshin had insisted it was fine. The younger man looked up at the glance and gave him a small but happy smile. Takeshi returned it fondly.

He turned back to the phone, wondering again how they could have been so wrong, how seeing that photograph could have made them jump to such a far-fetched conclusion. "Yoko," he said, "about the photo: there's got to be some other explanation. I'll talk to Yuriko, see what I can find out."

"Just because he's really the person in that photo doesn't mean he's all right."

"Yoko..." He hadn't wanted to tell her everything that had happened this afternoon, not so soon, not without Yuriko there. But sooner or later Yoko would have to know, and better for it to be sooner.

"Yoko, he's all right," Takeshi said. "He's better than all right. He... He saved Yuriko's life. Right in front of me." Better for it to be sooner, but he still lowered his voice to say it.

"Wh-"

"Traffic. There was almost an accident. Himura-san prevented it. I'll tell you the details later."

"Is she-"

"She's fine," he said firmly, instinctively holding up a placating hand. "She's fine, love. It never touched her."

"Is she there? Can I talk to her?"

"She went back up to the apartment house to grab a few things. We're... We're probably coming down tonight. All three of us. I'll call again when I know what's happening, all right?"

"All right, love." There was a pause on Yoko's end of the line. "You're... You're _sure_ about Himura-san?"

"Absolutely," Takeshi said, leaning away from the phone again to smile towards the small figure on the bench. This man had saved Yuriko's life. For that, he had Takeshi's eternal gratitude. But there was more than that. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Takeshi had developed an almost possessive fondness for the small redhead. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Takeshi had come to think of him as family.

_Your permission is most humbly requested--_

He would be family in more than sentiment before long. But Yuriko would have to tell her mother about that herself.

"I owe Yuriko an apology," Yoko added.

Takeshi sighed, turning back to the phone with a wan smile. "I think we both do, love."

"Hm."

"Later?"

"Sure. Call back when you can. Bye, Takeshi love."

"Bye, Yoko love."

Takeshi replaced the receiver and sighed, taking a moment to smile to himself. It was going to be an interesting night, bringing Yuriko and Kenshin both home to Kamakura. He wondered if Sae would still be there. This was certainly going to change things for the family. This was certainly going to make things interesting.

He turned away from the phone and joined the trickle of people heading back outside, trailing a short middle-aged woman through the big sliding glass doors.

"Kenshin dear!"

Takeshi looked up, startled. The woman had cried out delightedly, turning aside toward the benches and throwing her arms wide in greeting, in spite of the large department-store bag dangling from each of her hands. Kenshin had reacted faster even than Takeshi, sitting up alertly and unfolding his legs, his feet already tucked into his zori and an uncertain expression on his face. Almost wary. Takeshi hurried forward.

"I wondered where you'd disappeared to!" The woman had started forward as well, then stopped in her tracks with a gasp, brown eyes going wide behind her thick spectacles. "Good heavens, dear, what _have_ you done to your face?"

Takeshi glanced uncertainly toward Kenshin. He had felt the younger man tense, had seen how Kenshin started to raise his left hand toward his cheek before checking the motion and tucking his hands away into his sleeves.

"T- Takamori-dono--" he began, but she had closed the distance between them already, dumping her shopping bags onto the ground.

Takamori reached out and caught Kenshin's chin in one hand, lifting the hair above his left cheekbone with the other. "This looks _awful,_" she said.

Takeshi winced, moving closer. He'd seen Kenshin flinch at the contact.

"It's old," Kenshin said defensively. "It doesn't-"

"Not the scar, dear, this bruise!" Takamori tilted his head in her hands, inspecting the large purple mark that was starting to show through the skin of Kenshin's jaw.

Of course. Takeshi had all but forgotten that part of the altercation, the part that had led up to--

He closed his eyes against the sudden image of Yuriko falling backwards, of the truck bearing down on her, of Kenshin darting into its path to scoop her off the pavement and away.

God, he thought, they could have both been killed.

"You really need to get some ice on this," Takamori was saying. "Heavens, dear, it looks like someone _hit_ you!" She flicked an anxious glance up at Takeshi.

"It was an accident, that it was," Kenshin said rapidly.

"An accident, eh?" Takamori released his chin and Kenshin lowered his head, hunching his shoulders uncomfortably. "What were you...? Were you doing some kind of martial arts or something?" Her gesture took in Kenshin's outfit and his sword, propped casually against the side of the bench. Then she paused, eyes hesitating on his clothes, frowning a little as if something had puzzled her.

Kenshin glanced down at the long opening between the two front hems of his kimono. "Ah... yes," he replied awkwardly.

Takeshi might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw his companion start to blush.

Takamori shook her head slightly, dismissing whatever it was that had puzzled her. "Was Yuriko with you then, dear?" she went on, her voice settling down into a friendly burble. "I've been wondering where that girl has been all weekend. You know, her father called the house and everything! She should know better than to leave you sitting out here with a bruise like that." She bent down and gathered up her shopping bags. "Come on, Kenshin dear, let's go up to the house and I'll get some ice for you. And...?" She glanced curiously at Takeshi.

"Ah--" Takeshi began, brushing a hand embarrassedly against the back of his hair. "Maekawa Takeshi," he said, indicating himself with a thumb. "I'm Yuriko's father. I talked to you on the phone earlier."

"Ah!" Takamori beamed up at him. "I thought you looked a bit familiar! The hair, eh?" She grinned, gesturing at her own bushy black curls. "You know, I thought to myself, this fellow must be related to one or the other of them. But Kenshin's parents, you know..." She stopped herself, clucking her tongue. "But where are my manners? I'm Takamori Chiyoko; I'm your daughter's landlady, I suppose. So nice to meet you at last, Maekawa-san!" She bowed politely, and Takeshi returned the gesture, bobbing a couple of times.

"We were just waiting for Yuriko," he began, shooting a glance at Kenshin. "She was just going up to her apartment to... to pick up some things, and then we were going to catch the train back to Kamakura." Takeshi frowned, feeling out of his depth. Yuriko hadn't really explained the situation, had she.

Takamori frowned at him. "Back to Kamakura?" she echoed, as if it made no sense. "But there's the house dinner tonight. And hasn't she got work in the morning?"

"Um. Well. Himura-san and I were going back, at least." He glanced toward Kenshin for support, but the younger man just gave him a half-panicked look.

"Well, if you're waiting for Yuriko anyway, you both might as well come up," Takamori said. "We can get some ice on that bruise of yours, too, Kenshin dear." And she gave him a fond smile, eyes crinkling up behind her thick glasses.

o-o-o

"Yu-chan said she'd be right up." Hana shut the door behind them and toed off her shoes, then reached down from the step with one stockinged foot to nudge them tidily to one side. "She said--" She grimaced, dropping her voice. "She said she needs to apologize to everyone."

Motoko looked at her, blankly.

Hana took a breath. This was way beyond her usual depth. Normally she would have chattered away about trivial things, made a few jokes, maybe even coined a nickname for Motoko. But the other girl had been silent all the way back up to the apartment house, and so Hana had been too.

"I was going to go round everybody up," Hana continued. "That way she can get it over with."

Motoko nodded, but said nothing.

Hana tilted her head to one side. "Motoko-san? If you don't want to be involved with this..."

"No." Motoko's voice was soft but level. "I should be there."

"Um-- okay. I'll just-- I'll just tell everybody we're meeting in the dining room."

"Thank you, Hana-san."

Hana blinked, then smiled awkwardly. "Um-- yeah. Not at all."

She waited until Motoko turned to open the dining room door, then she bolted up the stairs.

o-o-o

"Yu-chan?"

Yuriko blinked, her hand still on the half-open door. Hana had been waiting for her in the foyer. Not really a surprise, after what she'd told the girl.

"Yeah?" she said.

"I-- um-- I got everybody together. In the dining room. Everybody's here except Takamori-san. 'Cos you said you needed to apologize to everybody. I hope it's okay."

So soon, Yuriko thought. She was not looking forward to this, but it would be better to just get it over with. Once she'd made her apologies she could go back to the station. Back to Kenshin.

"Yeah," she said again. "Thanks, Hana-chan." She set down her shoulder-bag near the door and leaned the bokken up against the wall. Then she took a long breath and followed Hana into the dining room.

They were all there, all seated around the table just as they'd been a week ago when she'd first brought Kenshin home with her, when she'd first introduced him to them all. This time, though, there was no food on the table. Not yet. It was still too early for dinner.

One week, Yuriko thought. Only one week, and so much has happened.

"Everyone," she began. "I owe you all an apology. I..."

She hesitated, taking a breath. Everyone was watching her, everyone around the table, the familiar faces expectant, all wondering what it was she was about to tell them. She ought to be mortified right now; a part of her wanted to crawl under a rock and die of shame. But she knew she had to do this, and she knew she had the strength to take responsibility for her actions. She swallowed and moistened her lips.

"I lied to all of you last week," she continued, dropping her eyes. "I broke the house rules, too."

A murmur ran around the room. They were hanging on her words now, eyes wide, all except Hana and Motoko. Motoko had looked away; Hana looked as if she might start to cry.

Time to get to the point. She swallowed again and looked up at them.

"Kenshin isn't really my cousin," she said. "And... Kenshin isn't really a woman. He's... he's my fiance."

She'd expected another murmur to go around the room but instead it went completely silent. There was surprise there, disbelief: clearly Motoko hadn't told anyone else; clearly Hana hadn't let on why she'd gathered the household together.

"I'm sorry," Yuriko continued hurriedly. "It's not his fault; dressing him up like that was my idea. If you want me to move out tonight, I won't blame any of you. I am so very sorry for all of this." She closed her eyes and bowed, deeply, as the room erupted in whispers.

Let them make their decision, she thought. Let it be quick, and then this will be over.

"Hold-- Hold on a minute." Hana's voice cut through the whispers.

Yuriko blinked, but stayed bowed forward. She'd heard the chair scrape as Hana got to her feet. What was she doing?

"I just-- Let me just say something." Hana's voice sounded nervous, as if she was about to do something drastic. "Yu-chan shouldn't have lied to us. That was wrong, yeah, and it's right that she's apologizing. But look-- nobody got hurt because of it. I think she should stay."

Yuriko stifled a gasp. "Hana-chan..." she breathed, as the undercurrent of chatter started up again in the room.

"Wait--" Hana said again, and the room quietened. Her voice had become more confident. "I know we all have to live here together," she continued. "So if anyone disagrees then we don't have to do this."

There were murmurs from the crowd around the dinner table, the beginnings of discussion, what sounded like the beginnings of assent. Yuriko held her breath. They weren't angry. They weren't about to throw her out. Did she dare look up?

But Hana wasn't finished -- at that moment Yuriko heard her take a deep breath and hesitate for a fraction of a second, as if she was about to say something difficult.

"I think we should let Kenshin-san stay too," Hana said.

Yuriko's jaw dropped. She wasn't sure which would have been worse: an outcry around the table or the dead silence that followed. She couldn't take it any more. She straightened up. Hana was standing at the foot of the table, her small face bathed in the golden sunlight that streamed in through the windows. All eyes were on her, the mouths of several of the girls agape.

"We all liked Kenshin-san when he was a girl, right?" Hana continued, a bit defensively. "And he doesn't have anyplace else to stay, and Yu-chan loves him, and-- and he just saved her life! Out there on the street! She would've been run over if it wasn't for him." The residents had started to murmur among themselves. "So, what do you say?" Hana continued. "Just 'til they find a place to live together. Who'll stand with me?"

And with that challenge hanging in the air, Hana went silent. Yuriko watched her, stunned. Hana was standing straight, her face set in a confident challenge, her eyes firm but sincere. All traces of childishness had fallen away from her.

Motoko got to her feet, startling everyone. Her gray eyes were down, on the table in front of her, almost hidden by the straight line of her bangs. Yuriko's heart had started to pound.

"It's true," Motoko said softly. "Even among us, Kenshin-san was completely honorable. He saved Yuriko-san's life. And..." She looked up and met Yuriko's eyes. "And he saved me from becoming a murderer."

Yuriko felt the blood drain out of her face. She opened her mouth to deny it, to tell Motoko that it hadn't been her fault, that if Yuriko herself hadn't lied to them all in the first place then the altercation never would have happened. But before she could speak, Motoko had moved silently to Hana's side, and had turned to face the rest of the room.

Hana goggled a little, her glamor of confidence slipping away. She grinned over at Motoko, but the other woman took no notice, staring her own challenge out into the room.

This was all too much. Yuriko was ready to interrupt, ready to tell them that it was all right, that Kenshin could stay with her parents in Kamakura until they found another apartment. But then another chair scraped in the silent room and Midori got to her feet.

"Hey," she said. "I'll vote for this. Kenshin's cool." She flounced over to Hana's side and nudged the girl with her elbow, exchanging a giggle.

That broke the dam. The tension went out of the room, nods were exchanged, and one by one Yuriko's housemates got to their feet, following Midori around to the foot of the table to stand at Hana's side. As they passed Yuriko a few of them reached out, to squeeze her shoulder or pat her back supportively. All her housemates -- these people she'd lived with, eaten with, bathed with, and never really gotten close to, these people who owed her nothing -- she looked at them all, standing there in the golden sunlight of the dining room and smiling back at her, and burst into tears.

It was Hana that came forward first, to put her arms around her and tell her it was all right, but only by a few seconds. Soon she was in the center of a knot of sympathetic housemates.

"Everyone," Yuriko managed between her tears. "Thank you. I'm so sorry-- but-- thank you so much." 


	45. Hospitality

** 45. Hospitality **

Takeshi eyed his charge with sympathy. It had been a twenty-minute trek back to the apartment house, and by the time they'd reached the final hill it had become obvious even to Takamori that Kenshin was flagging. He'd waved off her concern, of course, insisting that he was fine in spite of the fact that he'd been trailing behind them for the past block, in spite of the fact that he'd just stopped, breathless, to lean against a wall for support. The older woman had peered at him closely through her thick glasses, declared him dehydrated and at risk of heatstroke, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to help him up the rest of the hill. That had rendered Kenshin speechless for several seconds. When he'd found his voice again he'd managed a weak protestation that she was hurting him that she was, but Takamori had ignored him.

There'd been no time for Takeshi to enjoy his first sight of the grand old building; Takamori had whisked them in through the front door and into the lounge off the right side of the foyer, then disappeared. Within a minute she'd returned, with a tray and two teapots and a small handleless cup. She'd poured the contents of the smaller teapot into the larger, then filled the cup and put it into Kenshin's hand.

"Drink this, Kenshin dear," she'd said. "It's just lukewarm."

And then she'd disappeared again with a nod to Takeshi, to fetch some ice and another pot of tea.

Kenshin had downed three cups in rapid succession and then stopped, looking a bit ill but relieved at being left alone at last.

Understandable, Takeshi thought. It had been clear that being fussed over by Takamori had distressed Kenshin far more than had the heat. So when Kenshin looked up from his cup, Takeshi caught the younger man's eye and arched an eyebrow. Kenshin's expression softened; not quite a smile, but grateful nonetheless.

o-o-o

"Yuriko dear? A word please."

Yuriko tensed. She had dried her tears, had regained her composure, had just stepped out of the dining room intending to wait for Takamori. The house manager must have just gotten home. Her face was very serious.

Yuriko sighed silently and steeled herself as Takamori drew her past the stairs and toward the back corner of the foyer. She'd squared with her housemates. Now she had to do the same with Takamori.

"I've got Kenshin and your father in the lounge," Takamori said. "Yuriko dear--"

"I'm sorry," Yuriko cut in, through her own surprise. Kenshin and her father here? Had they followed her up? Had Takamori found them somehow and brought them here? But that could wait; she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Before she lost her nerve.

"Takamori-san--" She dropped her voice, lowering her eyes in shame. "I need to give you notice. I haven't lined up another apartment yet, but I'm going to have to move out." She forced herself to look up, to meet Takamori's eyes through the older woman's thick lenses. "Because of Kenshin," she said clearly. "We're a couple."

"Oh!" Takamori's eyes went wide, surprise written all over her face.

This Yuriko hadn't expected, not when Takamori had Kenshin and her father in the lounge already. What was going on?

"Well!" Takamori was saying. "My goodness. Yuriko dear. I never even guessed. Well." She paused as if searching for words, her cheeks a bit more rosy than usual. "Well. Such a surprise. But are you really sure, dear? I mean, I'm not prejudiced that way, really I'm not, but Kenshin's so much younger than you, you know, and she _is_ your cousin..." Takamori trailed off, eyebrows tilted and an uncomfortable half-wince on her face.

_She._

Yuriko blinked.

Takamori had said _she_. That meant she thought--

Yuriko opened her mouth and blushed hot as fire all the way to the roots of her hair.

"Yuriko dear?" Takamori was looking at her questioningly.

"N-no," Yuriko said when she'd found her voice. "I'm sorry, Takamori-san, it's not like that at all." Embarrassment was giving way to shame once again, and she lowered her eyes. "I lied to you earlier. Kenshin's a man."

There was silence for a little while. "Oh," Takamori said at last. "Are you sure, dear?"

"Uh-"

"No, no, never mind that, Yuriko dear, of course you're sure." Takamori heaved a sigh. "Well. Well then."

"It's not Kenshin's fault at all," Yuriko continued. "It was my idea, a hundred percent. So please don't blame him for it. I'm very sorry, and if you want me to move out immediately, I'll understand."

"Please let them stay."

Yuriko and Takamori both startled, turning abruptly toward the soft voice that had come from beside the foot of the stairs behind them.

"Please let them stay," Hana repeated. "Yu-chan's already confessed to the rest of us and we all decided it was all right. I know they're gonna have to find a new apartment together, but just 'til then? Please, Takamori-san?"

"Hana-chan!" Yuriko gasped.

"Well," Takamori started. "If all you girls are happy with it, then I suppose..."

"Thank you, Takamori-san!" Hana exclaimed, and caught the older woman in a quick hug.

"Oh my--"

"Yu-chan, everything's going to be fine!" Hana continued, releasing Takamori and jumping excitedly into the air. "Hey, I'm just going to go help Midori-chan finish the meatballs and then we can all have dinner together, you too, Takamori-san, and Kenshin-san too!"

"Hana dear," Takamori said, straightening her dress a bit awkwardly. "Why don't you go back to the kitchen, dear. I need one more word with Yuriko and then I'll join you, eh?"

One more word? Yuriko watched apprehensively as Hana skipped back out through the dining room doorway. Then Takamori turned back to address her.

"Yuriko dear..." Takamori sighed. "What I wanted to tell you originally, dear: you've got to look after people better when they're injured. And you can't leave people sitting out there in the heat when they're dehydrated like that."

"Dehydrated?"

"Yes. I've got your Kenshin in the lounge with a big pot of tea and I was about to go fetch some ice for that bruise of hers -- _his,_ that bruise of his -- but I think he's really feeling poorly and-"

"Is he all right?" Alarm flashed through Yuriko and she started toward the lounge, cursing herself for believing that Kenshin would be fine.

"Steady, Yuriko dear. I think it's just heat exhaustion. But I'm glad the two of you are staying here a while longer because I don't want him traveling in that condition."

"Oh." Yuriko looked at Takamori, suppressing a sudden urge to cry with gratitude.

"Yes. You'd better go to him now, dear. I'll be along in a minute with another pot of tea."

o-o-o

"Excuse me."

Takeshi looked up, startled. Kenshin was half way across the lounge, heading toward the sliding door that opened onto the hallway. He'd been sitting cross-legged on his floor cushion a moment ago, serenely sipping tea. Takeshi must have let his attention wander. Even in the dim light of the lounge he should have seen Kenshin get up, especially in that eye-searing magenta kimono of his.

Yoko hadn't been too keen on the magenta.

"Yuriko is here, that she is," Kenshin added in response to Takeshi's questioning look, and at that moment the door was hurled open.

"Kensh-"

"Kaoru. It went all right?"

She blinked at him for a moment, speechless. Then she heaved a sigh, the tension sloughing off her face and leaving a relieved smile behind.

"I was worried about you," she said to him, reaching out to put a protective hand around his shoulder.

It was a familiar gesture, the kind of thing Takeshi would have done to calm a concern of Yoko's. He unfolded his legs and got to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off the seat of his pants.

"And yeah, it went fine." She looked up again toward Takeshi. "Dad-- um-- we're not going to go back with you tonight after all. Sorry."

"Oh," he said. "All right."

"It's a workday tomorrow," Yuriko explained. She'd linked her arm through Kenshin's, holding him close to her. "It's, well, I shouldn't be late."

Takeshi shrugged, confused but willing to accept it. It wasn't good to cling too tightly to one's adult children, or to insist on coherent explanations for all their actions. "All right," he said again. "What about Himura-san?"

"He's staying here too," Yuriko said. Takeshi saw Kenshin twitch toward her, a half-question on his face. "And dad," she added, "you can call him Kenshin, you know."

Takeshi raised an eyebrow. "Not if he insists on calling me 'Maekawa-dono,'" he deadpanned.

"Oro-" Kenshin gaped back at him, half-panicked.

"Yuriko dear?" Takamori leaned around the doorframe at that moment. "I've brought some ice, dear." She beamed a friendly smile around the room and stepped onto the tatami, a laden tray in her hands. Yuriko made way for her, releasing Kenshin's arm.

"Here, Kenshin dear, have a seat, all right?" She herded him back toward his cushion, using the tray and the pressure of her smile.

"Oro-" Kenshin caught one heel on the edge of the cushion and sat down abruptly.

"Now then," Takamori went on, kneeling to set the tray on the tatami beside him. She picked up a tea-towel-wrapped bundle. "Here's some ice, all right? I wrapped it up so it shouldn't be too cold." She applied the bundle to Kenshin's face, then picked up his left hand and put it in place of hers. "There now, just hold that there. Are you feeling a little better then, dear?" She lifted the lid on Kenshin's teapot and glanced inside. "Good; you've drunk most of this." She gave him a pat on the arm and got to her feet.

"Thank you, Takamori-dono," Kenshin replied meekly.

"Yuriko dear, Maekawa-san," Takamori continued, "I've brought another pot and a couple of cups for you two, all right?" She waved a hand at the tray she'd just brought in. "It's hot though, all right? So if Kenshin is still feeling overheated he'd best stick with the lukewarm stuff."

Yuriko found her voice first. "Thanks, Takamori-san," she said with a smile.

"Ah, yes, thanks very much," Takeshi echoed.

"Not at all, dears," Takamori said. "Have a seat, have a seat. I'm just going to pop out and see if I can find something for that sunburn of Kenshin's, eh?" And with that and another cheery smile she turned to go, sliding the door shut behind her.

Kenshin let out a long sigh, lowering the ice-pack from his cheek and giving it a bemused look. Yuriko grabbed a cushion from the stack next to the television and plopped down onto it beside him, dropping her shoulder-bag onto the tatami.

"No, keep that on there," she said, steering Kenshin's hand back toward his cheek. "Takamori-san's right, you've got a real bruise going there." She looked up then at Takeshi. "Dad?"

He folded his legs again, sitting back down on his cushion.

"Yes?"

"Thanks. For keeping an eye on him." She gestured towards Kenshin.

"Of course."

"You want some tea?" She lifted the steaming pot by its wrapped-bamboo handle.

Takeshi hesitated for a moment. He'd be going back alone to Kamakura tonight. But there was still plenty of daylight left, and there were still a few things he needed to discuss with his daughter.

"Please," he said.

She poured him a cup, then one for herself. They sat for a little while, drinking tea.

"Kaoru," Kenshin said softly into the silence. He was holding out a small terry-cloth hand towel, still damp and stained a light yellowy-green. Yuriko accepted it.

"I'm sorry it's still wet, that I am," he added. "And I'll try to get the tea out, but it may be stained." He winced at her.

Yuriko shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You can try some bleach next time you do the laundry." She balled up the towel and set it onto one of the trays.

_Next time you do the laundry._

Takeshi smiled to himself, watching the two interact. It was funny seeing Yuriko like this. It was funny seeing how she and Kenshin already acted so much like a couple. It was a bit of a shame that they weren't coming down to Kamakura tonight after all.

He ought to let Yoko know; she was probably preparing already for their arrival. But before he called home again there was something that needed to be explained.

"Yuriko," he said softly. "Your mother and I sent you a photograph." 


	46. Explanations

** 46. Explanations **

_Your mother and I sent you a photograph._

Yuriko hesitated. She'd looked up when her dad had said her name, expecting him to ask for more tea, expecting him to make some light conversation. But this question could not be brushed off. His hazel eyes had gone serious.

The photograph. It had become such a precious thing to her. She'd almost forgotten that it had been her parents who'd sent it to her.

She'd almost forgotten the day she'd given it away to young Harumi-chan.

_Grandmother and grandfather before they were married._

Silently, Yuriko got up on her knees on the cushion, reached into her shoulder-bag, pulled out the now-familiar manila envelope. She could feel Kenshin's eyes on her, a curious gaze from just past her right shoulder, but she didn't look up. The padding crackled faintly under her fingers as she slid out the old bamboo frame. She turned the image to face her dad and laid it flat on the tatami between them.

She felt Kenshin react -- the way he startled at first sight of the image, the way he caught his breath, the way he stopped himself from reaching out -- but she kept her eyes on the picture frame.

Kaoru was in that photograph.

"Himura-san?" Takeshi said.

Yuriko blinked. Her father wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Kenshin, expecting an explanation.

"Oro?" Kenshin looked back, his violet eyes wide and clueless, no trace of his initial reaction on his face.

Takeshi frowned, momentarily confused.

_Ha,_ Yuriko thought. Her dad had no experience dealing with Kenshin in obtuse mode.

"This is you in the photo, right?" Takeshi clarified, picking up the frame and offering it to Kenshin.

He took it carefully, examined it for a long moment, then laid it again on the tatami in front of him.

"Yes?" he said, as if he had no idea what Takeshi was getting at.

Takeshi looked flustered. "How?" he asked. "This was my grandmother's. How can you be in it?"

"Yeah," Yuriko added, suddenly on her father's side. Somehow Kenshin had wound up alone in this city. Somehow Kenshin had vanished from what was supposed to have been their life together, had vanished without a trace from the Meiji era.

_How?_ This was something she wanted to know. This was something she _needed_ to know.

Kenshin had gone very still, eyes on the picture, hands carefully hidden in his sleeves. Yuriko watched him as the silence stretched out.

Wasn't he going to answer? He _had_ to answer. She needed to know. She really needed to know.

"How, indeed..." Kenshin murmured.

Yuriko gaped at him. "Come on!" she exclaimed. "You _can't_ not know!" She shoved his shoulder for emphasis.

"Oro-"

She'd only shoved him gently, but he must've still been a bit unsteady because he lost his balance and toppled sideways, banging his head against the corner of the television stand.

"Kenshin!" Yuriko was on her knees in an instant, bending over him, hands on his arms and shoulders.

"Ow..." he said indistinctly, holding onto his head.

She helped him back up, carefully, back into a sitting position on his cushion. There was blood on his hand, blood starting to make its way down the right side of his face.

"I'll get the first-aid kit," Takeshi said rapidly, and scrambled to his feet.

Yuriko cast around frantically for something to stop the bleeding. She'd given away her packet of tissues to Motoko and her hand-towel was not exactly clean after having been used as a compress. She spotted the tea-towel wrapped around Takamori's bag of ice but before she could reach for it Kenshin had snaked an arm past her and plucked her damp hand-towel off the tray. He pressed it to his temple, head still bowed forward.

There was a soft thump as Takeshi slid the door to the lounge shut, and at that sound Kenshin looked up into her eyes.

"There was a... a glowing thing," he began, his words rapid and soft but completely clear. "In the air; about this big." He lowered the blood-spotted towel for a moment in order to hold his hands about a foot and a half apart, then pressed it back against the side of his head. "It was in one of the alleys back behind the market downtown."

Yuriko stared at him. He was _explaining_. He'd waited for Takeshi to leave the room and he was _explaining_ it to her. She opened her mouth and then shut it again. She hadn't shoved him that hard. Had he hurt himself on purpose?

"I touched it and it... exploded... or something." He shifted his eyes away from hers slightly, as if trying to think how to put it into words. "It was like a gale all of a sudden. Windy and loud, and... and very cold, and there was a lot of light. When I hit the ground I was already here, that I was. I think." He drew his eyebrows together, wrinkling his forehead, then met her eyes again.

"There was a tall red and white tower, the one near Roppongi. It was the same day -- the same _date,_ I mean, the seventeenth of May -- and I think it was the same time... more or less. Around mid-day. I was out for a few hours so I can't be sure, that I can't. Only the year had changed." He stopped then, looking at her with a kind of expectant helplessness in his eyes, as if he hoped that she could explain what had happened.

Yuriko stared at him. "You--" she said. "That--"

He just looked back at her, straight into her eyes. "I lost the tofu bucket," he added sheepishly.

"That was _Tokyo Tower,_" Yuriko exclaimed. "That-- May seventeenth-- that was _you?_ That explosion?"

"I didn't--"

"Oh my god, Rika and Hitomi are never going to believe this." A hysterical giggle pushed its way up Yuriko's throat. "A time-warp. You came through a freaking _time-warp!_"

o-o-o

A wave of relief swept through Kenshin. She knew what it had been. She understood what had happened to him. But of course she did: Kaoru had always been interested in technology.

"What happened, then?" he asked her. "What caused it?"

"How the hell should I know?" Yuriko replied. There was a kind of hilarity in her voice. "It was a time-warp! That's-- that's totally impossible!" She grinned at him, shaking her head slightly, and then dove forward and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him and starting to laugh uncontrollably.

"Oro-- Kaoru--"

She'd pinned his left arm against his side and knocked him half off-balance again; only her grip was keeping him from falling over backwards. At least he wouldn't collide with anything in that direction, he thought, glancing around desperately for a place to set down the damp hand-towel so he wouldn't get moisture on the tatami. From this position the tea-tray was beyond his reach.

"A time-warp," Yuriko said, her voice muffled in the front of his kimono. She was shaking with laughter.

No good; there was nowhere he could put the towel down, and he was about to fall over. Kenshin reached out backwards and caught himself on the knuckles of his right hand, awkwardly, the damp towel balled up in his fingers.

Yuriko was still holding onto him, still leaning against him, still shaking with laughter. Kenshin sighed. His arm was starting to hurt.

Except she wasn't laughing any more. She was sobbing.

"Kaoru?" He wanted to put his arms around her, but he was pretty well pinned. "Kaoru, love, what's wrong?"

"I missed you," she squeezed out, her voice strained with tears and muffled by his body. "I waited, and you never came back. I looked for you."

Kenshin swallowed, suddenly very uncomfortable. This was what he'd avoided thinking about. This was what he'd dreaded those first few days, what had hurt even more than the knowledge that Kaoru was gone: the thought of what she must have gone through.

"We all looked," she said into his chest. "The police, the Oniwabanshuu, we all looked. But no one ever found any trace of you." She sniffled and went on, arms still tight around him. "They figured you'd been kidnapped and murdered. But I wouldn't believe that, not before they'd found a body. I always believed you were alive, just, just out there somewhere. But-- towards the end-- it got harder and harder to believe..." She broke down then and sobbed against him.

"Kaoru," he whispered through the tightness in his throat. She was squeezing him hard, as if she'd never let go again. "Kaoru, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what it was."

"Don't ever do that again, okay?" she said in a quavery voice. "If-- if you ever see another time-warp like that, just run. Or... or take me with you. Kenshin."

"Of course," he whispered.

She gave him a final squeeze and released him, sitting up and clearing her throat. "I'm sorry," she said thickly, forcing a smile through her tears. "My dad's going to be back in a minute."

o-o-o

Yuriko sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. She oughtn't be crying. After all that had happened, she oughtn't be crying now. But it had hurt, remembering. She had missed him so much.

Kenshin was offering her the hand-towel. She took it, found a patch that wasn't spotted with his blood, and wiped her face.

"Sorry," she said again, and laughed self-deprecatingly. "This is silly." She sniffled again, then gave up and blew her nose loudly into the hand-towel. It needed washing anyway.

Kenshin was shaking his head. "No," he said. "Kaoru, it's not." His eyes were very serious and just a little too bright.

"Don't feel bad," she said softly. "There was nothing you could do about it."

And it was exactly the wrong thing to say because he just looked at her, helplessly, as the tears welled up in his eyes.

_Nothing you could do._

Not just the wrong thing to say. He'd known it already, must have known exactly what she'd gone through, all those days and months and years without him. To step out of the twenty-first year of Meiji and land in two thousand and four and know -- _know_ -- that there was nothing he could possibly do, that it was far, far too late...

Yuriko reached out and slipped her hand gently around his shoulder. "Kenshin," she said softly. "Come here." She drew him towards her until they were sitting side by side, and put her arm around his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward, rested his head gently against her.

To know that he'd broken her heart, and that there'd been absolutely nothing he could do about it because she'd already lived out the rest of her life without him.

"I'm here, Kenshin," she murmured into his hair. "I'm alive. I'm here." She paused, holding onto him. He'd slipped his arms around her waist, the side of his face buried against her shoulder. "We're both here again. We can pick up where we left off."

She had always believed that she would see him again. It had just taken longer than she'd thought.

They held each other in silence for a little while. Then Kenshin moved slightly against her, starting to draw a breath, starting to collect himself. Yuriko nodded and loosened her grip. They'd learned long ago how to communicate like this. Kenshin must have heard her dad coming back.

They both straightened up, wiping their eyes with their sleeves. A moment later the door banged open.

o-o-o

"I'm back." Takeshi pulled the door hastily shut behind him with his free hand and started forward into the cool dimness of the lounge. "This'll be a start at least," he continued, holding out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and bag of cotton balls that he'd brought back. "If we need gauze I'll go looking again. Did you get the bleeding to stop?"

"Oro?" Kenshin said, and at that Yuriko broke down and started giggling. They were sitting side by side on the floor looking up at him, eyes red and watery and cheeks streaked as if they'd both been crying.

Takeshi blinked, at a loss. "Are you kids all right?"

"Fine," Yuriko managed through the laughter. Her voice sounded thick. "We're both fine." She cleared her throat, sobering. "We were just talking a little."

"Hm." Takeshi cast her a confused look as he came forward and knelt down onto the tatami in front of them. "Sorry I took so long. I couldn't find Takamori-san and eventually I had to ask one of your housemates." He unscrewed the top of the bottle of rubbing alcohol and plucked a cotton ball out of the bag, moistening it efficiently. He'd had plenty of practice at this as a father. More practice, perhaps, than the father of a girl ought to have had, but at least Yuriko had come through her tomboy phase in one piece.

Kenshin tensed visibly, blinking at the fumes and shrinking away slightly as Takeshi reached for the side of his head.

"Hold still, Himura-san," he murmured, and parted Kenshin's hair to inspect the wound. It was a bloody mess, starting to swell. Takeshi sucked air between his teeth and blotted at it with the cotton ball.

"Ow!" Kenshin yelped, flinching violently at the contact.

"Wimp," Yuriko said, and slapped him on the arm.

"Geez, Yuriko, leave him alone," Takeshi scolded. He turned his attention back to Kenshin's head. At least with the blood wiped away he could tell it wouldn't need stitches.

"I'm not going to try to bandage this up or anything," he added, wetting a second cotton ball and pressing it firmly against the wound. "But you'll want to be careful when you wash your hair, all right? You're going to have one heck of a goose-egg."

Kenshin said nothing; he just blinked tears out of his eyes.

"There," Takeshi added. "That should do it." He moistened another cotton ball and dabbed at the side of Kenshin's head, cleaning up the traces of blood still left among the roots of his hair.

The red roots of his red, red hair.

Takeshi moistened his lips and took a breath, careful not to look at the photograph. It was lying a little ways away, face-up on the tatami beside Takamori's tea tray. He recapped the rubbing alcohol and gathered up the used cotton, getting silently to his feet to drop it into the waste-paper basket in the corner of the room.

After what he'd seen this afternoon, he would have been willing to let the photograph go, to put it down as one of those inexplicable little things, one of those inconsistencies in life that he could choose not to question. But Yoko would want to know, and it wouldn't be fair to make her do the asking.

He saw Yuriko's eyes fall on the photograph an instant before he stooped to pick it up, saw her quick motion to reach for it just as quickly aborted.

"So," Takeshi said softly, as he settled back down cross-legged on the tatami. "You still haven't explained this picture." 


	47. To the future

** 47. To the future **

Yuriko caught her breath, the inside of her upper lip between her teeth. She should've thought of something, should've taken the opportunity of the delay and made something up to explain that photograph.

Takeshi had handed the frame to Kenshin and was watching him, serious, expectant. She saw Kenshin moisten his lips and take a breath, saw him glance warily for a moment in her direction. Half asking for help; half warning her that he was about to tell her dad the truth.

"Isn't it obvious?" Yuriko blurted before Kenshin could speak, taking the photo boldly out of his hands and giving her dad a sly smile. "He came through a time-warp, and I'm the reincarnation of his wife."

Takeshi opened his mouth, closed it again, and gave her an exasperated look.

Yuriko savored the flash of relief. He hadn't believed her. Of course he hadn't believed her. She didn't know what she would have done if he had.

"Come on, dad, look at it," she went on. "It's recent. It has to be."

"But--"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, because the explanation had dropped full-formed into her mind. "You remember last summer, they were having that History Days festival down at the old port in Yokohama?" _Yokohama. Of course._

"No," Takeshi said.

"Well, they were. A hundred and fifty years since the Black Ships or something like that. Don't you remember? Sae said she went too. They had all this historical re-creation stuff: the port, the foreigners' district, the first steam train--" _The steam train._

Takeshi raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for her to get to the point.

"Well, we went. With a bunch of friends. They had all these costumes from different eras and you could dress up and get your photo taken." She waved a hand at the picture. "We did a bunch. I'm in one of the others."

Takeshi looked at her narrowly.

"Honestly, you can look it up!" she added defensively, passing the photo back to his outstretched hand. "I'm not making it up, dad!" And she wasn't, not entirely. She hadn't gone last summer but Rika had, and had brought back photos of herself and a bunch of friends in costume to show off at the office. Rika's photos had been in color, of course, but there was no reason there couldn't have been a black-and-white option. Even a faded-looking sepia-tinged black-and-white option.

Takeshi didn't look convinced. "But then why was it in with Grandma Harumi's old albums?"

"How should I know? I must've brought it home some weekend and it got tidied." Plausible; her mother was a champion tidier.

A hint of pain crossed Takeshi's face. "Yuriko, this is Grandma Harumi's handwriting." He'd flipped the frame over again to show her the inscription. "Right here. It's _hers_."

"Come on, dad, think about it!" Yuriko exclaimed. "I mean, _look_ at him!" She snatched back the frame and gestured at the photo, at Kenshin's distant black-and-white smile. "How long ago could it have been? I mean, how old do you think he is?"

Her father glanced at Kenshin, who snapped to attention and tucked his hands away inside the ends of his sleeves. He'd put on his best 'who, me?' expression, reminding Yuriko suddenly of the first time she'd met him.

"I don't know," Takeshi said. "Twenty-two? Twenty-three?"

Yuriko cast her eyes heavenward. "He's thirty-nine," she said. "But I mean, just look at the picture. He's practically the same. I mean, he's not like a hundred and fifty!"

Her father still looked unsure. "But the writing..."

"The writing's on the cardboard, not the photo. Maybe the backing got swapped somehow. I mean, think about it. What other explanation is there?" Yuriko had him now. The time-warp line was patently ridiculous; her dad would never believe it.

"Yeah..." Takeshi said slowly. "Yeah. I guess you have a point." He took the photo back, pursed his lips, shook his head. "I guess-- When your mother and I first saw this, we assumed it was old. Really old. We thought Himura-san had to be somebody else, made up to look like that." He shot Kenshin an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Himura-san."

"Please, not at all!" Kenshin waved away the apology, flustered at the attention.

"No," Takeshi went on. "No; it makes sense." He frowned for a moment, then sighed as if relieved. "It makes a lot more sense." He paused. "I wonder what happened to the other photo, then."

Yuriko took a breath and let it out slowly. Her father wasn't the only one who was relieved.

"Excuse me," Kenshin was saying. He was on his feet, heading toward the door of the lounge. "There's something that needs to be done, that there is."

Yuriko and Takeshi both stared at him. He'd slid the door half open, slipped through the gap, and shut it discreetly behind him before either of them could say a word.

o-o-o

She had been about to knock. She had been about to knock for a good fifteen seconds, trying to think of what she could say to him, trying to get up the nerve. In the end, she hadn't had to.

Ozaki Motoko eyed him anxiously for a long moment, and for a long moment he just looked back at her, violet eyes calm, expression softly neutral. There was a large bruise blooming blue and purple on the left side of his jaw, just below the cross-shaped scar.

"Kenshin-san," she said at last.

"Motoko-dono," he replied.

There was a long pause. He was waiting for her, demanding nothing. Motoko moistened her lips and dropped her head.

"I came to apologize," she said, which wasn't really true.

She heard Kenshin sigh. "It's not you who should be apologizing," he replied softly. "There were things that should have been said, much earlier."

Motoko smiled humorlessly. "No," she said. "There were things..." She broke off, shaking her head. She'd been thinking about this for the past half-hour and she still had no words to explain it. But it seemed now, somehow, that no words were needed.

"I'm going home," she finally said. "But I'm coming back again."

Kenshin nodded, once, solemnly. "If any help is needed..."

Motoko shook her head. "No. This is for me to do."

Kenshin nodded again, his eyes softening.

She might have turned away then, might have left it at that, but no one had ever held her gaze like that before. There'd been no challenge, no accusation, no ulterior motive. Just a calm understanding.

"Thank you," she added, and this time the hint of a smile in her eyes was sincere. "'Til next time."

And that was all that needed to be said.

o-o-o

Yuriko and Takeshi were still sitting staring at the door when Kenshin let himself back in.

"Motoko-dono is going home for a little while," he explained.

Yuriko opened her mouth for a moment, then shut it. "Ah," she said.

Takeshi just looked at him, perplexed. "Motoko-dono?" he echoed. "Doesn't she live here?"

"He means home to her parents," Yuriko explained. "She's going to be all right."

"Oh. Well, all right then." Takeshi took a breath, casting a glance around himself. "Speaking of going home," he said, giving Yuriko an apologetic smile. He got to his feet. "And I'd better call your mother again. Can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure." Yuriko stretched to reach her shoulder-bag and fished around in it, pulling out her phone by its tanuki charm and offering it to her father.

"Thanks." He flipped it open and pressed a sequence of keys. "Green button?"

"Yeah."

Takeshi nodded briefly and brought the phone to his ear. A moment passed. "Hello Yoko love, it's me."

Yuriko smiled faintly, watching him. He'd wandered over toward the window to look out at the sky. It was going orange already with the sunset; it would be dinnertime soon. She glanced at Kenshin, wondering if he'd be up to it. He hadn't been too keen on the curry last week. Spaghetti and meatballs wasn't as spicy as Hana's patented knock-your-socks-off beef curry, but it still might strike him as strange. Yuriko considered. He'd looked exhausted last week. He looked even more exhausted now. But last week there'd been a tension in him, an undercurrent of shock. Now, everything was all right.

"Yuriko has something to tell you, love." Takeshi had pitched his voice louder, making sure she heard. Now he was holding the phone out to her.

"What--" she started.

He gave her an eager grin, raised an eyebrow, cast a meaningful glance at Kenshin and said, "Tell her." And he put the phone in her hand.

Yuriko's jaw dropped. "Dad!" she exclaimed, feeling betrayed. She hadn't wanted to deal with telling her mother just yet. But she'd said she'd do it, she'd said she'd talk to her, and there was no getting out of it now. She shot her dad an exasperated look and raised the handset to her ear.

"Hi mom," she said, trying to keep her voice from quavering.

"Yuriko darling!" her mother's voice replied. "You're all right? You're safe?"

"Yeah mom, we're all fine. Everything's good."

"Your father said you had something to tell me?" Her mother's voice was curious, expectant.

Yuriko sighed silently. If she didn't tell her mother now, it would be much more embarrassing the next time.

"Yeah," she said. She swallowed, moistened her lips. "Mom... I'm engaged."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, as if her mother were opening and closing her mouth speechlessly. "Engaged!" came the delighted cry. "Oh, Yuriko, that's-- that's _wonderful!_ When did it happen? Who is it? Have we met him?"

"Yeah--"

"Could it be that new lecturer at your school that you'd mentioned? Or maybe that nice young man from the marriage meeting last weekend? What was his name; Inoue-san? I didn't think you two really connected, you know, but sometimes it takes a few days to click, you know what I mean?"

"No, mom--" Yuriko muttered.

"What's that, sweetheart? I know it must be such a joy, but you'll have to speak up, darling."

"No, mom," Yuriko repeated louder. "It's Kenshin."

"Kenshin?" There was a pause. "You mean-- you mean _Himura-san?_"

Yuriko winced. "Yes, mom."

"Oh. Well." Her mother's voice hesitated. "Well. Your father did say..." She hesitated again. "I suppose if your father's all right with it..."

"Yes. He gave us his blessing." She glanced up at Takeshi. He was smiling knowingly at her, as if laughing to himself. She gave him a dirty look.

"Oh, Yuriko," her mother was saying, her voice gone soft. "I'm so-- I'm so happy for you!"

Yuriko let herself relax, sighing with relief. "Thanks, mom," she said. "Thanks."

"That's so wonderful, darling. You've got to come down sometime soon, both of you! How soon do you want to have the wedding? I can get started on the arrangements if you want, sweetheart."

"Mom--"

"I know Watanabe-san can put me in touch with all the right people. Any idea how many guests there'll be from Himura-san's side of the family?"

"Mom! We haven't gotten that far yet!" Yuriko clenched her teeth, grimacing. Planning a wedding was most certainly not her idea of a good time. In fact, if her mother wanted to take care of everything, it was probably for the better. "But mom?" she went on. "If you want to start planning things, it would be nice. Just, just be sure to check with me before you set a date or anything, all right? And we don't want anything big and showy."

"Of course, Yuriko darling!" Her mother's voice was joyous. "Whatever you two lovebirds want. Oh, sweetheart, I can't wait to see you both again. Next weekend?"

"Well..." She cast a glance at Kenshin. He was sitting still, hands tucked in his lap, watching her anxiously. Next weekend seemed so far away, and she had work, and they were going to need to start hunting for a new apartment... But crunch time was over, thank god, and she ought to be able to take a day off during the coming week to get started on the apartment search...

"Okay," she said into the phone. "That would be fine. Next weekend it is." She exchanged a smile with her father. "We'll try to come down on Friday night even," she added.

"That'll be wonderful," her mother said. "We'll be waiting for you both! Talk to you soon, all right, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Talk to you soon, mom."

"Bye, dear."

"Bye." She thumbed the 'end call' button and flipped the phone closed.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Takeshi quipped.

"Dad!" Yuriko whapped him on the arm with the back of one hand, and tossed the phone back into the open mouth of her shoulder-bag.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"Sorry," Yuriko said sulkily. She oughtn't have hit him. For some reason, she'd been doing that a lot lately.

For some reason, indeed. Yuriko knew exactly what it was.

o-o-o

They'd both gone out to see him off.

Yuriko had been willing to do it alone but Kenshin had insisted that he was feeling much better and had been on his feet with his sword tucked neatly into the waistband of his hakama before she could stop him. Now they stood side by side at the top of the front stairs, watching her dad stride off down the sidewalk. He paused for a moment at the bend in the road, turned briefly to wave back up at them, and then was gone, lost from view behind the trees.

Yuriko sighed.

Kenshin was standing silently beside her, one hand resting on the railing, looking out down the street toward where Takeshi had finally disappeared, toward where the last sunlight of the day fell red-orange on the tops of the trees. Yuriko tilted her head, ducking to get a glimpse of his face beneath the concealing bangs. There was a slight smile on his lips.

She sighed again and smiled, shaking her head slightly. The sky was aglow with sunset; from the smell as they'd passed through the lounge, dinner would be ready within minutes. Their second house dinner together.

So much had changed. And god, she thought, it had only been a week.

A week and a century.

If so much had changed in a week, how much more in that missing century. She had a new face, a new name, a new family. She had raised their son, had helped him raise his own children, had been raised in turn by Harumi-chan's own grandson. And more: the entire world had changed. The things she knew, the history and culture and technology that made up the backdrop of her life-- what few of those things had even existed a hundred years ago?

So much had happened. So much time had passed. And yet, when she turned to look...

She remembered like yesterday the day he'd given himself that haircut, the day he'd agreed with her comment that his bangs were too long and she'd found him again minutes later in the garden with a fistful of severed hair in one hand and his sakabatou in the other. He'd left them just long enough to hide behind.

She remembered like yesterday the day she'd taken him to be measured for that kimono, the day the tailor had taken it upon herself to make it up in magenta to match his old one. At the start of their first winter together, that day had been, and he'd worn it so often that it was a miracle it had lasted an entire ten years.

So much had happened, and yet when she turned to look, those hundred missing years seemed nothing but one brief moment in the vastness of forever.

_Forever isn't over yet._

Yuriko's chin crinkled, turning the corners of her smile downward for a moment. She had a new face, a new name, but it didn't matter. They were together again. They were together, and together they could stand still as time flowed on and on around them.

He must have sensed her gaze at last because he looked up then, blinked at her with those big innocent eyes--

"Oro?" he said, and her heart broke with joy.

* * *

_Author's note:_

The story of the new magenta kimono is told in "The Rurouni's New Clothes." 


	48. Epilogue: ordinary world

** 48. Epilogue: ordinary world **

_January 1, 2006  
(Heisei era, 18th year)_

"Yoko! Yoko love!" Her husband's happy shout sent Maekawa Yoko running up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Is it--?" She burst into the upstairs study, pausing breathless in the doorway, a whirl of excitement and anxiety in her stomach.

Takeshi half-swiveled the office chair to face her. His hazel eyes were shining with happiness. "You're a grandmother," he said.

Yoko stepped forward into the room, her eyes on the flat-screen monitor on the desk beside him. "Oh my god," she breathed.

Yuriko was smiling out of the image on the screen, her eyes tired but her face glowing with joy, the blanket-wrapped newborn cradled in her arms. Kenshin was sitting beside the bed just to her right, looking drawn and exhausted but every bit as happy as Yuriko.

Yoko slid onto the other chair at the computer desk and Takeshi clicked through to the second photo. It was a close-up of the baby's face, red and wrinkled and framed by the blanket and part of Yuriko's arm.

"It's a girl," he said softly.

"Oh my god," Yoko said again. It was overwhelming, like an enormous mass of emotion suspended just above her, about to come pouring down. She was suddenly remembering Yuriko herself as a baby, remembering what it had felt like to become a mother.

"And they went with that name," Takeshi continued. "Himura Tokiko."

Yoko nodded slowly.

Yuriko had mentioned that name last week, when Yoko had been up to their small apartment in Nakano for a visit. They hadn't known then whether the baby would be a boy or a girl, but they'd known it would come within a few days of the new year. Yoko had commented that if it was a boy they could call it Hajime, for the start of the year. Kenshin had looked uncomfortable at that -- horrified, really -- and muttered something about finding a different option.

"Are they writing it with the kanji for 'time'?" Yoko asked.

"I don't know. It's just in hiragana on here." He waved a finger at the text below the photo.

"Mmm." Yoko smiled at the picture of her newborn grand-daughter. "Go back to the other one?"

Takeshi clicked back, and they sat side-by-side for a while, looking at the still image on the screen.

"Who took the photos? Ozaki-san?"

Takeshi nodded. "Must be. It's Ozaki-san's Flickr account, see?" He pointed to the user-name on the screen. "She must've uploaded them straight from her phone."

Yoko had thought she'd heard it wrong when Yuriko had telephoned one day in the fall a year and a bit ago to tell her that she was starting a kenjutsu dojo. Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu, she'd called it. Takeshi had gotten a faraway look in his eyes when Yoko had repeated the name, and she'd found him that evening looking through his grandmother's old photo albums again. Ozaki Motoko had been Yuriko's first student, and was now her assistant instructor and one of her closest friends. Acting instructor, these days, with Yuriko on maternity leave.

Yoko nodded, gazing again at her daughter and her son-in-law and her brand new grandchild. She sobbed, abruptly, surprising herself. Takeshi wrapped an arm around her back.

"It's so," she started, through tears, "it's so wonderful."

Takeshi squeezed her.

"They're ours," she whispered.

She felt her husband nod, and glanced back to see that his eyes were shining as well.

Yoko cleared her throat and sniffled, wiping at the tears. "So when are they going home?"

"Tonight." Takeshi let go of her to tab into another window. "Yuriko e-mailed." He clicked on the message. 'Going home tonight,' it read tersely. 'Everyone fine. Here are pics. -Yuriko', followed by the Flickr link.

"She must be tired," Yoko said. "I'll take the two o'clock train. I want to get everything ready before they get back." She'd been planning for this for the past week, preparing a travel bag with diapers and blankets and a couple of tiny flannel baby-suits, preparing to go up to Tokyo and stay with them for a few days to help once the baby came. The other Himuras had been a great help up to now, but Mayumi had her own children to look after.

"Kenshin-kun looks tired too," she added.

"Heh," Takeshi laughed. "He looks almost as tired as she does."

Yoko smiled. "Could've been worse," she said. "I'm glad you had that talk with him." She paused, re-reading the brief text on the screen below the photo. "What did you tell him, anyway?"

Takeshi took a long breath, considering. "Just the truth," he replied softly.

o-o-o

It had been the first weekend of December that they'd finally taken action. They'd been up to Tokyo for their regular visit, looking after Yuriko, helping out with a bit of grocery shopping, dropping off a few baby-related accessories that had been eagerly contributed by some of Yoko's friends. It had been clear from the start that Kenshin was anxious about the pregnancy, but by four weeks out from Yuriko's due-date it had gotten well out of hand. He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping; he tried to hide it from Yuriko but he was worrying her sick.

By the end of November Yoko had had enough, and so that weekend she'd sent Takeshi to have a talk with him. Takeshi had been an expectant father before, she'd reasoned. He could tell Kenshin that he needn't worry quite so much.

And so Takeshi had gone to find his son-in-law -- up on the roof of the apartment building, as it happened, looking out over the gray city with the laundry flapping in the cold late-autumn wind behind him -- and he'd told him.

He'd told him the truth. About antibiotics, and handwashing, and the germ theory of disease. About fetal heart monitors, and Caesarean sections, and the methods used to stop postpartum bleeding.

And then he'd handed him the sheet of notes he'd prepared the night before, sitting up late in front of the computer after Yoko had gone to bed: maternal death rates per hundred thousand live births, for the year 2000, for 1980, for 1960. And estimates for the 1880s.

"I can't tell you what's going to happen," he'd said into the silence. "But I can tell you the odds. Things are different now than they were, Kenshin."

Kenshin had looked up then, had met Takeshi's eyes, had held them for a long moment. Surprise on his face, the start of realization, and a question.

A question that would never be asked. A question that would never be answered. Because...

Because Takeshi had remembered. It had been the night before Yuriko's wedding that the memory had come to him, lying in bed half asleep beside his wife.

_He couldn't have been more than six; first or second grade it must have been, the first and only time he'd been teased at school about his orange hair. He'd come home near tears and told the first person he'd found: Grandma Harumi. She'd told him it wouldn't happen again. She'd told him his hair was something to be proud of. And she'd taken him upstairs to show him something. To show him where his red hair had come from._

"Mine was auburn when I was a young woman," Harumi had said. "My father's was brown. But my grandfather's was red." She'd held the bamboo-framed photograph like it was an ancient treasure, squatting down beside him so he could see. "I never knew him. But my grandmother told me stories."

He'd gazed at the black-and-white smiles, trying to imagine that Grandma Harumi hadn't always been old, that she had once had a grandmother of her own, that his grandmother's grandmother could once have been this bright-eyed girl.

"Grandmother Kaoru was the strongest person in the world, and she loved him more than anything. She always said, 'I will see him again.'"

He'd remembered this, lying in bed that night. He'd remembered Yuriko's joke about the photo, that evening after Kenshin had saved her life. He'd remembered how Kenshin still called her Kaoru. And the next morning he'd gone to the temple to watch his daughter marry the man she loved.

Takeshi had cleared his throat, looked away across the roofs of Nakano, lifted a hand to awkwardly rub the back of his head. "Yes. Right. Um," he'd said. "Let's go down and see how the ladies are getting on."

Kenshin had nodded slowly, had trailed him all the way down the stairs to the fourth floor walkway before speaking.

"Thank you," he'd said at last. "Takeshi."

o-o-o

"Takeshi?"

"Hmm?" He glanced up at Yoko, away from the new family smiling in digital color from the screen.

"I said, we never did work out exactly how he's related to us."

Takeshi hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled.

"That's easy," he said. "He's our daughter's husband."

-- The End --


End file.
